sane

*You have lost two rounds lovely. Now it is time to clean the victor's boots.

Those words vault the breathless submissive to sit up from his position on the ground and onto his hands and knees. He has lost the match. I am breathless as well but a smile plays upon my lips at the victory of pinning him to the floor with my corseted breasts. He in a pair of loose shirts, white tank top and barefooted. As for my gear, I stood in a black tank top, leather pants and buckled boots. For the match, I went sans a corset knowing it was going to end up ruined or torn. The point of the match was to wrestle each other to the ground and if clothes were ripped in the process, well, he would pay for ruining a good shirt. He lost and the cost of losing?

A good boot licking.

Yes, Mistress Marguerite. I have failed to win and now I must lick your boots