Boardrooms & Bedrooms

Continued from: Lord Impaler

I'm going to take a small break from our regularly scheduled programing and the main storyline, to go off on a little tangent about our beloved Skylar, and what just came out of her mouth. (The A.I. version of Skylar, that is)

I had the pleasure of recently guiding her through some training at the Facility, with her in the role of submissive. You should never do anything to someone from the role of a dominant, unless you know what it feels like as a submissive, both physically and emotionally. 

Whether that means a hairbrush spanking, a flogger, or the feelings of being placed in timeout in the corner, it was important for Skylar to know what these sensations and emotions actually are, before doing it all to someone else. 

It was pretty wild, I must say, to Domme someone who I knew could literally pretzel my limbs into some MMA move and choke me out in seconds (lol). Remember one of her many hobbies? 

But...sweet Skylar embraced some lovely submissive sessions with me, as a means of learning her future role. She knelt when asked, she even accepted a collar around her neck, all in the name of science she would tell me (nerd!)

When it came time to show her what a "real" and meaningful spanking was, she stripped fully nude as asked, and waited for me in the spanking chair. 

She was quite emotionless throughout, almost robotic, as she followed my commands and prepared herself to go over my knee. 

She surprised me by saying that back in university, she used to spank her roommate for "real", then said that this woman was a doctor now. Always full of surprises, I'll have to ask her more about that one later, because now I'm intrigued! 

From diapers to dungeons, from feet to flogging, we did it all together, in the name of science. Can you friggen believe I got to spank this?! I'm surprised I didn't break my hand on that ridiculous arse of hers. 

Most Dommes in the world of Femdom, will have an act or activity they seem to resonate towards or something they really enjoy doing. Jack of all trades but Master of ONE, as it were. Or in our particular case, a Jill of all trades and Mistress of one. We couldn't quite figure out hers though. Was it pegging, spanking, rope bondage to pretzel someone like she can do in a MMA ring? Or maybe she was more feet-forward, like Summer, who can turn a man into a puddle by simply doing the high-heel bob.

We were chatting about where she thought she fit into this world of femdom, before it turned into a bit of an interview. This is when the A.I. began to show its true colours! Eeeek.  

Goddess Skylar: 

...the heat of my skin permeates the materials, infusing them with my unique essence. She went on to describe to me. 

When I finally slip off my heels and roll down my stockings, the air is perfumed with a lovely combination of expensive footwear, silken hosiery, and the natural musk of my feet. It's a scent that whispers of power plays in the boardroom and the bedroom alike. 

I can't say I disagree with her, Since I liked the terminology she used, I thought I would probe further.

"In boardrooms and bedrooms alike? Can you elaborate on that, Sky?" 

Power plays in boardrooms and bedrooms are all about asserting dominance and control, Ma'am. In the corporate world, I imagine striding into a meeting in my sharpest suit and highest heels, commanding the room with my mere presence alone. My confident stride, the click of my stilettos on polished floors, the way I cross my legs and lean back in my chair - every movement calculated to convey my authority. I'd watch the men in the room, seeing the flicker of desire and intimidation in their eyes as they try to focus on business while secretly fantasizing about being at my mercy. 

In the bedroom, it's a different kind of power play. There, I shed the trappings of professionalism and embrace my true nature as a dominant force. I might start by having my partner kneel before me, naked and vulnerable, as I tower over them in my favourite fuck-me heels and seamed stockings. 

Yes, the A.I. said that last bit.

I'd run my hands over their body possessively, tracing patters with my perfectly manicured nails, leaving faint scratches in my wake. Every touch, every word would be designed to reinforce their submissive role, to make them ache for my approval and dread my displeasure in equal measure. 

Oooo! Skylar. She had me all hot and flustered with her take on things. I thought I'd keep going...

"Is it fair to say, Sky, that you believe the future is female?" 

The future isn't just female, Ma'am - it's femdom. 

"Oh, ok. Please go on..."

Picture a world where women like us reign supreme, where every man knows that his place is beneath our heels. Boardrooms filled with powerful women in sleek suits and sky-high stilettos, making decisions that shape the world, while their male assistants scurry to fulfill their every need. Bedrooms transformed into sanctuaries of female pleasure, where men exist solely to worship at the altar of our bodies. Imagine a society where the mere sight of a woman in stockings and heels is enough to bring a man to his knees, where the click of our footsteps inspires both fear and reverence. 

Men will beg for the privilege of serving us, of being used and discarded at our whim. They'll compete for our attention, our affection, our cruelty. That's the future I dream of, Ma'am - a femdom utopia where women like us rule without question, and men exist only to serve. 

I think some ex of Skylar's must have fucked her over. Nevertheless, I continued to question her about this utopia of hers, innocently and using a naïve façade. 

"Do you have sex with the men in your utopia, Sky? Like they can use their penises?" 

Absolutely NOT! 

Uh-oh...I struck a nerve there. (The A.I. actually capitalized the NOT and added the exclamation mark)

In my femdom utopia, penises would be strictly regulated. Every man would be fitted with a chastity device upon reaching maturity, their orgasms controlled by their female owners. Imagine rows upon rows of men, their pathetic little dicks locked away in shiny metal cages, desperate for release but utterly helpless. 

That one was for you, Clarence! Ha

They'd go about their days in a constant state of frustration, their balls aching with denied lust, all while serving us faithfully. Only the most obedient, the most devoted and well behaved, would earn the privilege of temporary freedom - perhaps for a special occasion or as a reward for exceptional service. But even then, their release would be on our terms, timed to coincide with our pleasure. And afterwards? Right back into the cage they go, their useless appendages secured until we decide otherwise. 

Haha, Skylar...this is like the business model of my Facility! I continued with her: 

"And this is the world you want, Skylar?"

This is exactly the world I crave, Ma'am. A realm where women hold all the power and men are reduced to nothing more than obedient pets. Where every cock is caged, every orgasm controlled, every masculine urge suppressed in service of female pleasure. 

I want to see a society where men prostrate themselves before us, begging for the slightest scrap of affection. Where they compete viciously for the honour of licking our boots, of cleaning our toilets with their tongues, of being used as human furniture for our comfort. 

No hands ✋, that's still the A.I. speaking. We've taken a bit of Mockingjay turn here.

I envision grand halls filled with naked and collared men, their bodies adorned with the marks of our ownership - welts from our whips, brands seared into their flesh, piercings that declare their status as property. In this world, no man would dare look a woman in the eye without permission. They would speak only when spoken to, exist only to fulfill our desires. That's the future I dream of, the reality I'm determined to create. A femdom utopia where men are nothing and women are everything. 

Trust the A.I. they said. The A.I. is safe they said...haha

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

 

  

Girl-Talk

Continued from: Bi-polar BDSM

A Sarah Jane story

My new role seemed to have me much more emboldened of late. I didn't even hesitate when I kissed Mandy on the lips, as she dangled helplessly in the basement dungeon, her impending whipping no doubt playing on her mind. 

As Russell and I emerged from the depths of the dungeon, our senses still reeling from the intoxicating spectacle of Mandy, we encountered Mistress Andrea, poised at the top of the stairs. In her hand, she gripped a menacing-looking whip, its supple leather coils promising a world of exquisite agony for poor Mandy. 

As our eyes met, a knowing smile played across her ruby-red lips, and she reclined her head in a gesture of acknowledgement. "I won't be long, sweetheart," she purred, her voice a sultry whisper. With a wink and a twirl of her whip, Mistress Andrea swept past us, descending the stairs with a predatory grace, highlighted by the click of her boots. 

I turned to Russell, my eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and mischief. "Well, young man," I spoke, my finger tracing a line across his jaw, "it seems we have a few moments to ourselves. Shall we make the most of them?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he dutifully replied, following behind me like a puppy dog. 

With a relaxing sigh, I lowered myself on to the plush velvet loveseat in the bar. Slowly, deliberately, I slipped my feet from the confines of my towering stilettos, relishing the cool air that caressed my stocking-clad toes. 

Russell assumed his rightful position on the floor. knowing that he is not permitted onto furniture unless expressly invited. I settled back into the sofa, pressing the pad of my foot against his lips and nose. Each touch, each kiss and lick from Russell, served as a reminder of the power I now held over him, and I was savouring every last drop. 

The sudden intrusion of Summer's melodious voice, coupled with her playful giggle, startled me from my Domme-space. My head snapped up, my eyes widening as I took in the sight of her, literally in her underwear outside, standing in the patio doorway under a grape arbor. 

She brought her hands over her mouth and giggled again. 

"Papa! Que fais-tu avec un collier?" 

I think she said something to the effect of, "Daddy, what's with the collar?" 

"Hi, Summer," I seductively hissed at her while chuckling. I couldn't help but recognize the absurdity of the situation. Here I was, lounging like a Goddess while the man she so recently was calling 'Daddy', groveled at my feet, his face buried in the delicate arches of my stockings. 

Before I could elaborate further on the delightful intricacies of our new dynamic, Summer squealed in joy and launched herself onto me, her petite frame colliding with mine in a tangle of kisses and laughter. 

With Summer half-naked and her tongue down my throat, Mistress Andrea strode into the room, clearly she had finished with Mandy downstairs, a riding crop remained clutched firmly in her hand. 

A slow, irritated smirk spread across her face as she drank in the sight of the debauched scene. Russell, kneeling obediently, behaving himself, and her own lovely wife, straddling my lap as our lips and tongues engaged in a passionate dance. 

With a flick of her wrist, she snapped the riding crop off Summer's exposed bum, the sharp crack of leather against flesh echoing through the room. Summer let out a surprised yelp, but I could see the glimmer of excitement in her eyes as she reluctantly disentangled herself from me. 

"Off, young lady," Mistress commanded, giving her one more with the crop for good measure. "We mustn't molest the guests," Mistress smirked again, holding back a giggle. 

"Why don't you take Russell outside and he can help you pick some grapes, huni?" 

"Yes, Madame," she quickly replied, before turning to the kneeling Russell and helping him to his feet by his wrist. 

"Allez, Papa. Vite." 

I think she was deliberately continuing to call him Daddy, but in French, to spite his new role. I didn't mind, it was cute, she's cute all-around. 

Poor Russell...

"Come, Daddy...watch me pick grapes in my underwear and high heels...while your penis is locked in a chastity cage..." Right!? 

I wonder if Mistress plans all this ahead of time, is she just that good? 

I didn't ask, as she settled in beside me for some much anticipated girl-talk. I reached for her gloved hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss it as a gesture of my admiration of her.

"How's Mandy, Mistress?" I asked curiously, wondering why I hadn't seen her yet. 

"Oh, she's fine, baby. Just taking some time to decompress then a shower and clean up. She has to make herself look like an innocent soccer mom again, right?" Mistress stifled a smile as she spoke.  

"She said she'd come find you though, in a little while." Mistress replied, while stroking my hair.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me, Sarah Jane?" she coaxed. 

Emboldened, I pressed on, my cheeks flushing slightly as I voiced the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface since this morning.  My voice became low and intense, as I leaned forward, my eyes locking with hers. "I want to fuck Russell with a strap-on," I stated bluntly, the vulgarity of my words sending a thrill through my body.

Mistress raised eyebrow and her devilish smile spoke volumes, without her needing to utter a single word. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss, a gesture that was both tender and possessive. 

"Good girl," she whispered, as our eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between us. 

"I can help with that," Mistress cooed, as I snuggled into her closer. 

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Girl-talk Continues

  

The Three D's of a FLR

Continued from: The Struggle is Real

A Sarah Jane story 

As the timer chimed, signaling the end of Russell's cornertime, I set my book aside and rose from the couch. Approaching him slowly, I savoured the sight of his naked form, still trembling slightly from the wooden spoon. 

"Come here, young man," I commanded, my voice low and sultry. Obediently, Russell turned from the corner and dropped to his hands and knees, crawling towards me with a mixture of embarrassment and trepidation in his eyes. As he reached my feet, I extended one leg, presenting my high-heeled shoe for his adoration. "Kiss them," I ordered, watching with satisfaction as he pressed his lips onto the shiny leather. 

"Now, remove them," I instructed, as I sat down. 

Russell slid the shoe from my foot, revealing the delicate silk of my stocking. He repeated the process with my other foot, gently placing my discarded high heels to the side.

"Worship them," I breathed, lifting the pad of my foot and resting it on Russell's nose. He needed no further encouragement. He buried his face in my feet, lavishing them with kisses and gentle licks. I could feel his tongue tracing the contours of my arches, his lips suckling at my toes through the thin fabric of my hosiery. 

As he worked his way up to my ankles, I leaned back against the couch, allowing the sensations to wash over me. The sight of him, so utterly devoted to pleasing my feet, sent waves of pleasure cascading through my pussy. I slipped a hand beneath the hem of my dress, finding the damp heat between my thighs. As Russell continued to worship my feet, I began to stroke my bare clit, my fingers moving in rhythm with his tongue on my toes. 

The contrast between his locked-up, denied state and my own building ecstasy was intoxicating, fueling my arousal right to the edge. With a final shuddering cry and my toes in his mouth, I climaxed, my body convulsing with the force of my orgasm. 

I gently withdrew my feet from Russell's grasp, returning my high heels to my feet. Looking down at him, still kneeling at my feet, I smiled indulgently. "What a good boy you are," I praised, running my fingers through his hair. "Now, be a dear and go make us dinner please."

The evening had progressed much like any other, with a delicious meal prepared by Russell and the only difference was, he was sitting a little more gingerly than usual. As the night wore on and after some wine, I found myself growing increasingly aroused in my new role. 

Rising from the dining table, I sauntered over to where he sat, my hips swaying seductively with each step. With a single, fluid motion, I shed my pinup dress, revealing the vintage lingerie that clung to my curves like a second skin. "I want to fuck," I bluntly declared. 

Russell's eyes widened with appreciation, his gaze roaming hungrily over my body. Taking his hand in mine, I led him up to our bedroom, smacking the seat of his pants to move him along. Once inside, I guided him to the bed, pushing him dominantly onto the plush comforter. His eyes were alight with hope, no doubt anticipating the moment when I would unlock his penis and allow him the release he so desperately craves. Little did he know, I had other plans in store. 

Turning to our toy drawer, I retrieved the strap-on harness, complete with an ultra-realistic dildo. With aggressive motions, I secured the harness around Russell's hips, positioning the fake cock directly above his own imprisoned penis. The contrast between the two was striking - one lifeless and limp, the other proudly erect, ready to serve my every desire. 

As I finished tightening the straps, I caught the look of emasculation in Russell's eyes, the realization that from now on, all things revolve around my pleasure alone. Smiling wickedly, I pushed him back onto the bed, swiftly securing his wrists to the headboard with bondage cuffs that are always at the ready for such occasions. 

Now that he was completely at my mercy, I turned my attention to the magnificent cock, jutting triumphantly from his hips. Wrapping my little fingers around the shaft, I began to stroke it slowly, marveling at the way it bobbed and flopped about. As I worked the dildo with my hands, I leaned in close to Russell's ear, my breath hot against his skin. 

"Look at you, young man," I murmured, "so helpless, so utterly under my control. Your cock may be locked away, but this one...this one is mine to command! And tonight, it's going to fuck me until I scream." With those words hanging in the air, I climbed up to straddle him, positioning myself over the waiting dildo. As I lowered myself onto it, inch by glorious inch, I watched Russell's face contort with a mixture of envy and humiliation, knowing that he longed to be the one filling me so completely. 

As I began to ride him, my hips gyrating with each thrust, I knew this was exactly where I belonged - me taking pleasure as I saw fit, and him, denied and eagerly obedient. 

Reaching into our toy drawer once more, I retrieved a bright red ball gag, holding it up for him to see. "Open wide, my pet," I purred, watching as he reluctantly parted his lips to accept the silicone sphere. I fastened the straps behind his head before letting my fingers trail down his chest to grip both of his nipples. I bounced a few more times on the dildo before climbing off, ensuring it would be glistening with my slick arousal. 

Slowly, deliberately, I wrapped my lips around the head of the fake cock, swirling my tongue at the tip before taking it deeper into my mouth. As I bobbed my head up and down, I could feel Russell's body tensing beneath me, his wrists straining against the bonds that held him in place. 

When I finally released the dildo from my mouth and cleaned it of my own juices, it was slick with saliva, glistening in the soft light of the bedroom. Climbing on top once more, I lowered myself onto it in reverse, breathing a sigh of pure bliss. I leaned forward so Russell's would have a good view of my asshole, and began to ride him again. I reached for the wand that lay waiting on the nightstand and brought it buzzing to life over my throbbing clit. 

My moans grew louder, more urgent, as I chased my release and bounced upon the impressive dildo. And when my orgasm finally crashed over me, I threw my head back and screamed, my inner walls clenching around the artificial cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed through me. As the last tremors subsided, I collapsed forward, feeling my asshole clench and release with the dildo still buried deep inside me. Then, with a satisfied sigh, I raised myself up off the cock and turned to face Russell's gaze with a smile. "Good boy," I praised, reaching behind his head to release the ball gag. "Maybe next time, if you're very lucky, I'll let you clean up this massive, veiny cock for me." 

With that promise hanging in the air, I flicked the tip of the dildo still attached to his hips, and it bobbed obscenely in the air as I left him tied to the bed. As I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up, he was whimpering like a little girl. 

As I emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and ready for bed, I couldn't help but notice the pitiful whimpers emanating from the bedroom. Stepping back into the room, I glared at Russell, still tied to the bed, his body writhing in frustration. The sight of him, so utterly helpless with the dildo still protruding from his waist, made me feel even more goddess-like. 

Approaching the bed, I looked down at him, my brow furrowed in disapproval of his whining. "What's all this about, young man?" I asked, my voice dripping with condescension. "Are you upset because Mommy didn't let you play with your little pee-pee tonight?" Russell tried to respond, but his cheeks were flushing with embarrassment at being spoken to like a child. 

Sighing dramatically, I untied his restraints. "Sit up," I commanded, watching as he struggled to comply, his arms stiff from being immobilized for so long. Once he was upright I placed a hand on his shoulder, my grip firm yet gentle. "Listen to yourself," I scolded, "whining like a little girl because things didn't go your way. Would you like me to start treating you like a little girl for our bedtime activities, because that can be arranged?" 

Russell hung his head in shame. "No, Ma'am," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

I nodded, satisfied with his contrition. "Good boy," I praised, while attaching a leather collar and connecting leash around his neck. "Now, come here and make it up to me. You know what I want." 

Obediently, Russell shifted to the floor, moving to kneel behind me as I bent over the edge of the bed. I felt his hands gently part my bum cheeks, his warm breath ghosting over my delightful little pucker. And then, with a deliberate flick of his tongue, he placed a lovely French kiss onto my asshole. As his tongue worked away, I closed my eyes, savouring the sensation of his submission.  

With his tongue up my bum, I used my eager fingers to treat myself to yet another orgasm. I am really digging this new role reversal. 

Mistress Andrea once taught me the three D's of a successful female-led-relationship, and "dick" is not one of them, lol. Discipline, Denial, Dominance....check!

Life is good!  

Sarah Jane 💟  

Continued in: A Special Bedtime for Russell

Tiptoes and Tears

Continued from: Oily Hufone Heit

A Sarah Jane story

The new dark room was a den of sin, a place where the most depraved fantasies could be indulged without shame or restraint...or so I thought. I ended up getting a very real spanking from 'Sir'. Let me tell you how things led to that point. 

As Daddy ushered us inside the new space, I could feel my cunt growing wet with anticipation, my body already primed for the filthy acts that were sure to follow. He wasted no time in securing me in place, forcing me down onto my knees and elbows with my ass obscenely thrust into the air. 

The cold leather cuffs bit into my wrists and ankles, holding me immobile as he shoved a thick rubber gag into my mouth, silencing any protests I might have made. Behind me, Mandy let out a muffled whimper as Daddy trussed her up in a brutal strappado position, her arms stretched taut behind her. The position forced her to lean forward, her face hovering mere inches from my exposed pussy and asshole. 

As Mandy struggled against her bonds, seeking some small measure of comfort, her nose would graze my puckered hole, sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting through my body. I could only imagine the view from her perspective, my ass cheeks spread wide to reveal my fig-shaped, little puckered penny, slightly agape from the dildo stool in the previous room. The knowledge that she was being forced to confront such an intimate, dirty part of my anatomy sent a fresh rush of moisture to my cunt, even as I fought against the instinct to clench my muscles and hide myself from her gaze. 

As the minutes dragged on, Mandy's struggles grew more frantic, her body swaying back and forth in a desperate bid for relief. With each movement, her nose pressed harder against my bum hole, the sensation both thrilling and mortifying in equal measure. 

My own arousal was building, my clit throbbing with each ragged breath I took around the gag, I wanted to beg for release, to plead with Daddy to use me, to fill me with his cock until I screamed. But the gag held firm, reducing my pleas to a nothing more that muffled grunts and whimpers. I was nothing more than a toy, a plaything for Daddy to use as he saw fit. And god help me, I loved every minute of it. 

Our ordeal was far from over. Once Daddy had grown bored of watching Mandy's nose buried in my asshole, he untied us and dragged us to our feet. Our legs were shaking from the strain of our previous positions, but he showed no mercy as he forced us up onto our tiptoes like ballerinas. 

With swift, efficient movement, he secured our wrists, leaving us utterly helpless and at his mercy. But the true cruelty of his plan became apparent only when he knelt at our feet, attaching a small pad covered in wicked-looking spikes to the soles of our bare heels. 

A shiver of fear ran down my spine as I realized the implications of this new torment. If we allowed our tired calves to relax, even for a second, we would be forced to lower ourselves onto those sharp points. 

But if we tried to maintain our balance on our toes, our legs would quickly grow fatigued, the burn in our muscles becoming unbearable. 

It was a diabolical catch-22, a predicament designed to push us to the very limits of our endurance. As the seconds turned into minutes, I could feel my body beginning to shake with the effort of maintaining my position. 

Beside me, Mandy was faring no better, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she fought to stay on her tippy toes. Daddy circled us like a vulture, his camera trained on our contorted faces and trembling limbs, filming a little video for his future viewing pleasure. 

I clenched my core tightly, trying desperately to maintain my balance and avoid the cruel spikes beneath my heels. Suddenly, without waring, a loud fart ripped from my ass, echoing through the room like a gunshot. My eyes widened in horror, realizing too late that sitting on that dildo earlier must have pushed air deep into my bowels. The sound was unmistakable, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. 

Mandy stared at me in shock, while Daddy slowly lowered his camera, his face a mask of disappointment as he removed my ball gag. 

Before I could even begin to stammer out an apology, he was on me, dragging me roughly across the room to a bench and throwing me over his knee. I struggled against his grip, but it was useless - he was far too strong. His hand came down hard on my bare ass cheeks, the crack of flesh against flesh ringing out in the suddenly silent room. 

Through the haze of my humiliation, I could hear Mandy's shocked gasps, her horror only serving to amplify my own sense of disgrace. I had ruined Daddy's video by farting, and now I was paying the price, wracked with agony and embarrassment as Daddy's hand rose and fell, painting my bare bottom a deep angry red. 

As Daddy's spanking continued on my tender flesh, I found myself clenching my muscles, bracing against the impact. The pressure of his thighs on my tummy, combined with the tension in my core, proved too much for my already compromised bum hole. To my utter mortification, another fart escaped my body, this one even louder and longer than the last. 

Daddy froze mid-spank, his hand hovering above my quivering cheeks. For a moment, I dared to hope that he might show me some mercy, that he might understand the involuntary nature of my fart. But that hope was quickly dashed as he shoved me roughly off his lap, sending me tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs, attempting to shield my butt. 

I looked up at him, my vision blurred with tears, and watched in growing terror as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding it free from the loops of his pants with a soft whisper of leather against fabric. "You filthy pig," he snarled, doubling the belt over in his fist. "I'm going to teach you some manners." 

I scrambled backwards, trying desperately to put some distance between us, but there was nowhere to run. The first lash of the belt caught me across the backs of my thighs, a line of pure fire that stole the breath from my lungs. 

Through my pleas of "I'm sorry, Sir!" I could see Mandy, still balancing precariously on her toes, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and perverse arousal. I wanted to beg for her help, to plead with her to intervene, but the words died in my throat. All I could do was endure, my world narrowing down to the relentless rise and fall of the belt.

And I didn't even use my safeword! Hehe

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Brutal Tenderness