My dick is much larger than yours. In fact, we will be entering a month long, if not more, period where your dick is of absolutely no concern to me. It will be locked up, in a pink chastity device. Then in pink panties. Every day.
You really have to be some kind of top-tier corporate bitch to have your tailor come to your office to do measurements for your next couple of suits.
Is it arrogance, or are you just that busy?
And more importantly, why does this vision turn me on so much? I bet you fantasize about some hot, tight young blonde arriving from the tailor to “measure” you, enjoying all the attention and the brushing against your body, the scent of her skin as she gets too close. And how she must think about just how powerful you are.
That damned ego again!
I leave you alone for a few weeks and look what happens to you. You start bragging about your measurements being taken in your office, about how busy you are.
You should have never told me this. Any of this. Haven’t you learned?
**
Oh, I called the tailor. We had a talk. Sadly, I could not get a tight little blonde out there to measure you, but I made one simple, diabolical request.
I told them, “Leave the measuring tape behind.”
Such an innocent request it would seem. But trust me, it isn’t. Because once they are done fawning over you, measuring your inseam and chest, I will be dropping by to do some inspections of your own.
And to introduce you to my own nine inches.
Special, thick, cruel nine inches.
It’s the size of my latest strap-on cock. Once your ego is fully inflated with all the attention to your thousand-dollar suit(s) creation, I will be there to bring you back to size. Literally.
You must be wondering what the measuring tape is for.
**
My nine-inch cock is gorgeous.
It’s black and has a fine texture. When lubed (yes, I lubed it up to stroke it in the mirror) it glistens. You know how much I love to see black, shiny glistening dick – it just makes me want to shove it. Hard. Into …well, whatever “hole” I desire at that given moment.
This cock is good and thick. How many women do you know that take great pleasure in window shopping for dicks? I do. Because I know the bigger it is, the better It will feel as it presses between your ass cheeks.
Of course, I do not feel the actual cock, but I feel the pressure against my crotch, the base pressing, rubbing against my pelvic bone, sending much-appreciated vibrations of sorts down toward my clit.
That’s all it takes. It just makes me want to thrust more. Harder.
And it will be tight. I will bring plenty of lube.
But what about the measuring tape? Oh, yes. That.
**
My dick is much larger than yours. In fact, we will be entering a month long, if not more, period where your dick is of absolutely no concern to me. It will be locked up, in a pink chastity device. Then in pink panties. Every day.
I will start our visit by measuring – with the tape – the size of your pathetic cock. With a serious reminder that I need a much larger cock for satisfaction – but, that’s ok. You will please me in other ways. Many, many other ways.
I will make you measure my strap-on cock while on your knees, using your teeth to hold the tape in place, so your lips are so close to my shaft tip. I will double your size. Because you are going to be flaccid and humiliated. This will not be one of those times that you are stiff, rocking a large erection, so turned on by your humiliation, because I am going to shove ice cubes into your asshole until you are quivering, pathetic.
Limp.
I bet your nose will be sniffling and eyes watering. Like a pathetic girl. Just over some ice.
Then the humiliation of the measurement.
Then, to be honest, what I am most excited about — making you present your wrists to me in front so I can bind them with the measuring tape. Tightly. I want you tied up with that measuring tape as I make you attempt – sadly – to get your lips around the entire thickness of my new cock.
Good luck with that.
It is so big, your mouth is going to be swollen all day. So instead of walking around with pride and a spring in your step over having the tailor there doing your measurements, you will be self-conscious about your puffy lips, stretched corners of your mouth.
My hands tightly in your hair, holding your head still. I will pump. And pump. And pump. Until my hips are moving hard and fast and you are gagging, choking on it. Eyes watering. Pathetic wrists bound. So much for the ego of your big measurement!
It is all the warm-up though. Because next comes the bending over, you presenting your ass to me, so I can lube it up liberally and fuck you hard. Fuck you until I cum. It may take 15 minutes, it may take an hour. I will bring my clit vibrator just in case, in case you are crying ad begging for mercy and need me to finish off before you are unable to walk the rest of the day.
But after the mouth-fucking, the ass-fucking, I am not done.
Not even close.
I need the measuring tape for something else entirely. As you grovel there, wishing you could curl up into the fetal position, I will make you strip down for my measurements. I have to measure 7 different parts of your body.
You must be wondering why.
Well, because I am ordering a custom pink satin dress for you, ruffled, so feminine. It will be custom-designed to fit your body perfectly, so I can finally create my biggest fantasy – “the taking” of you as a very feminine, slutty girl bitch. Oh, a tight, pink satin dress is going to be incredible on you. So degrading. Yet, you will have a huge bulge in your panties – or, be stiff against the cage.
I am going to film the measurements to send to the ladies at the custom dress shop – and they will be laughing and sharing it among their group, I am sure.
Three weeks later, I will have your custom dress. Probably just around the time your “new suit” arrives. Sorry to put a damper on the arrival of the new suit. How ironic that you get a new “power suit” at the same time I get you into a new girlie dress – all for me.
Is it clear why I want that measuring tape left behind?
I can’t wait to see how your ego holds up.
Not well, I predict.
See you this afternoon, my corporate bitch!
Affectionately,
Mistress Akasha
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