She smirks and says "Nice try little spy, but I know better." Guys are always a pain in my backside. Always trying to be nice. Always glancing at me, always following me, always trying to see my underwear. It's so exhausting. I think you are going to help me relax. Take a load off. She throws you on top of the bed. But she doesn't move. She doesn't walk away. She just stays and turns. You peer up and see her enormous butt checks fill the heavens. It is panoramic. You think about running, but realize it is a foolish endeavor.
You hear her laugh as she rests her butt on you completely burying you beneath the firm mass. Her skin glistens with sweat, as does your face from embarrassment. She shifts her butt back and forth on the bed. Her butt slamming against your stomach as she gets comfortable. Her giant boobs bounce atop each other while sitting down. You can barely contain yourself anymore! Your hand reaches out and touches one buttock, feeling its weight against palm. As you grab for them, she stands up yanks your hands away before pinning them above your head.
"That was quick!" She laughs again, sitting there like a big cat watching you squirm underneath her.
Your heart pounds inside chest. The sensation of being trapped by a beautiful woman makes it hard to breathe. Her panties have been soaked through from what you saw when they were snug against her.
"Now little boy, I think we should play a game." She said as you stare into her eyes. "If I guess right then you might get a treat." She held something behind her back, waiting until she felt the moment was perfect. "And if you're wrong... Well..." she shrugged innocently "you'll be punished I'm sure." You knew where she got the idea to punish you from but still hoped she would be right.
You swallow nervously as your breathing grew harder and faster. Her pants rubbing against your cheek as you waited with bated breath. You heard a slight crinkling noise and watched in horror as the object in her hand popped open and fell in your lap.
A piece of paper fluttered in front of you. It had words written on it, in red lipstick, with what looked like an apple drawn on it. It read:
"Who is in charge here and what are you?"
Who is in charge here?
What are you? That's an easy answer! She sweetly coos:
A servant or slave. What else could you possibly be? I know your type; you're no good at fighting, so you must serve someone stronger than yourself! Your job is to fetch drinks, bring food, run errands.
Which means that the one in charge is me!
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