“Take it out.”

He had to obey. She was his owner after all. Disobedience was not an option. She’d made that perfectly clear when he’d signed the slave papers.

“You like that thing way too much. It makes you stupid. Do you know that?”

“Yes, Miss Danielle.”

“When was the last time I let you relieve yourself?”

“Three months, Miss Danielle.”

“Go ahead and play with it, for goodness sake. I know you want to. It’s already dripping.”

She watched, bemused, as he tried not to squirm or groan, as he tried to refrain from stroking too quickly. “How badly,” she purred, “do you want that orgasm?”

“Oh, Miss Danielle, I want it so badly. I would do anything, Miss Danielle.”

“Be careful with your words, beloved slave,” she ran her long nails down his arm, then over across his left nipple. He shivered. There was something about her today, something calculating and sinister. It both excited and frightened him.

“I’m considering castration.”

“Oh, please, Miss Danielle”

“Please, what? See what I mean? That it makes you stupid? Speak clearly. Please castrate you or please do not castrate you? What are you trying to say?.”

But he was in the throws of orgasm, his fluid gushing, his member jerking, tears pouring down his face.

“Never mind. You just told me.”