I'm on corona time, and he's on My time. He may be blindfolded but the image of my corset, garter, thigh-highs, gloves, and heels will be burned in his mind as he surrenders to My strong, supple thighs.

Settle in for a nice long afternoon session, slave, because I have you in a mask on your knees, begging Me to put the hurt on you. This is right where you want to be, surrounded by My legs and stockings and soft skin and totally overpowered, drifting back and forth between here and there ... reality and fantasy ... and whether you're conscious or not, all you can ever see is Me.

It's just that I'm almost *too* strong. Too powerful. Too lethal. When he's locked between My thighs with My legs outstretched and My ankles crossed, and again in a tight figure-4 hold ... or even if he's just worshipping and kissing all over My body, he knows it only takes a little flex, the slightest pressure, and it's lights out.