I had received an email from Mistress Deborah; it was a list of questions about my fetishes. Answering as truthfully as I dare, I awaited a response.
Had I revealed too much?
No, I needed her to realize the extent of my submissiveness. Everything seemed aligned.
First, her age of fifty, twice my age, and the attached photo of her body only-fit hand in glove with my fantasies.. She stood slightly turned away from the camera, and her body corresponded with my own obsession with woman with experience and thick bottoms.
Her chest, a breast-man's heaven, had wide aureola and thick, erect nipples; and her shapely legs led to a full-bodied, bubble bottom. Those globular breasts, large and miraculously suspended, were the photo's focal point and my eyes danced back and forth from them to the crop beneath them that her hands gripped across her slightly curved abdomen, and black leather, mid-knee length boots accentuated her sculptured legs. Over the last three days, awaiting her response, I had jerked off to this photo more than a dozen times.
On the morning of the fourth day, it finally came.
"Slave,