One of us must die. You are the King of Ferelden! Between the blight, and the civil war, Ferelden cannot afford to lose you. If you die in this battle... we may have ended the blight just to doom our people anyway. I would gladly sacrifice my life to allow you to live, but I know you. You would try to stop me, and get yourself killed in the process. Besides, I will be damned before I see you married to that backstabbing bitch Anora." I would never marry her!" I notice you don't deny that you. There was nothing she could move; even her head was strapped down. With that, the lights were turned down to a red glow, and she was left alone. Very turned on, she wished that she had at least one hand free to masturbate with, but no such luck. This was her punishment, she thought. Shortly thereafter, the bedroom door opened, and her tormentor entered. He was wearing a head to toe, black-latex catsuit and hood with eye and mouth openings. She saw that his huge cock was fitted into a sheath of. She was wearing a red evening gown; he guessed it was handmade by some effeminate designer from Paris with an unpronounceable name. Obviously he knew his shit. The dress accentuated her shape which was long in some places and full in others. She was narrow waisted yet with curved hips and a round ass, “ghetto booty” was the slang term. “Okay, bring it in twenty minutes. Thank you.” She hung up the phone. “That was your dinner,” she said as she turned to him. She produced a hair band. "I don't mind waiting until you get off work, if you will come home with me to help put these up. I will make it worth your wild" I was speechless after that, wondering if she talking about what I hoped she was talking about."I...gu...guess I could." finally stammering out. She just laughed at my response and nothing else was said about it. I finished loading her groceries and went back inside. A few minutes later I was told to go home. It was a good thing to, because all I could think about.
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