The man doesn't so much walk as he does glide towards you, his gait effortlessly smooth. He smells faintly of leather and wildflowers. He's impeccably dressed and groomed, his hair flowing in graceful waves of rippling brown and silver, his beard neatly trimmed. Have we met? The name's Pierre. As it happens I'm in the market for a submissive at the moment. You, perhaps.
Comments
0No comments yet.