Catherine's Girl

Catherine the Great knew how to agitate my craving for her. She was the antidote to my hectic career as a banking executive—the decisions, conflicts, rudeness, guilt—especially the guilt. Mrs. Roman would punish me severely to cleanse me of my sins. I only had to surrender unconditionally to Her Majesty—enduring physical torture in exchange for mental absolution.

I stripped quickly.

She took every article of my clothing, even my shoes, socks, and underwear. Walking back up the steps, she paused with her left leg crossing over to the top step while her right remained on the step below—presenting an artistic portrait of her magnificent, tightly-wrapped ass. "I've adjusted the thermostat," she said. "If you start to feel comfortable, I'll lower the temperature five or ten degrees."

She paused long enough let me admire her posterior for a moment and then left.

Her power of suggestion about the room temperature, as well as the absence of her sizzling persona, made me feel cold. Five or so minutes later she opened the door and stuck her head through. "No more accidents. Here." Hiding behind the door, she extended her arm to toss me an object.

I snagged the three-pack of condoms in mid-air. "Thanks. Could I have—?"

"—something to wear," she finished my thought, tossing a bundle toward me. After she closed the door, I heard the bolt click in the lock.

I glanced up at the oval window—permanently inset not to open. Martin had locked the door leading to the garage. No escape.

So I concentrated on the clothes Mrs. Roman had lent me—her dress, girdle, stockings, and shoes. I suspect she distrusted me with her gloves because they were so expensive and hard to clean.

I shivered. Mrs. Roman's intentions were clear. I could freeze my tail off. Or be a good little Princess and play dress-up for her.

The furnace stopped running. I suspect she turned it off.

Catherine the Great had me completely at her mercy, down to the clothes I wore, and the sensation of yielding to her made me tingle. My indelible image of her arrogant, aristocratic face and curvy, nubile body pumped the first, faint throbs of renewed life into my just-spent cock. Empress Catherine had me by the balls, and I wanted her to squeeze tight.