There wasn’t a reason she was dressed
She didn’t need a reason for why today
she was wearing the heels and the stockings and today was the day she
hadn’t put underwear on. There wasn’t any reason.
It definitely wasn’t because he’d said
she should. Even though he had. She’d wanted to do it anyway. It
didn’t have anything to do with him.
Even if he came to her mind
every time a light breeze ruffled her skirt and brushed past her bare
slit or anytime she crossed her legs and felt the stocking slide
against one another. Nothing to do with him. Just a coincidence.
And it didn’t matter that she snuck
away to the toilets in the middle of the day, locked the door,
ditched her skirt and started playing with herself while imagining
crawling by his feet. That was normal. She always did that, as far as
she could remember. Wasn’t important. No point thinking about it.
Of course she’d put the toy in her bag.
She must have done. No other reason it could be there. She knew this
was going to happen. She always did this. She locked herself away and
got off picturing all the ways she wanted to serve and please him.
That was normal.
So when she got home and fell to her
knees and put her hands behind her back and looked up with blank,
slave-like adoration that wasn’t anything to do with him. That was
And when she sucked his cock and
swallowed him cum and obeyed his every word without a second’s
hesitation that was just because it was what she was for. That was
Nothing to do with him.