It must be so much more difficult to be a male slave, with your excitement worn on the outside. I’ve always thought so. But my own nipples are hard as two stones, and I’m sure anyone could see a blush on my cheeks and my chest. It’s the curse of being a natural redhead. The Masters and Mistresses all love it. Of course, they always slip their searching fingers into my cunt, finding it wet. I am wet more often than not, my body always seeking out pleasure, and finding it in the tiniest detail: my Mistress’s perfume, my Master’s voice, a quiet command, a rough beating, another beautiful slave. It will all set me off. I spend much of my time fighting my orgasms. My pussy clenches hard now as the slave boy leads me from my room and into the hall. Across from the Master’s study a door is open, and we turn there and enter. The room is arranged as a schoolroom, much like the ones I sat in as a child, even with chalkboards and maps on the walls.
