A week went by, Abigail needed to digest the feelings she experienced while at the party of exhibition. So many new emotions bubbled up inside her as she replayed the encounter with Malcolm over and over through her head.
She held onto the smooth navy business card, brushing the sharp edge against her fingers, each time she would remember his dominant hands on her. The warmth, power and gentleness that he beheld as he dominated her. Her pussy would get a slight tingle of the faint kisses that captivated her wholly.
On the eighth day after their meeting, she mustered up enough courage to text the silver number on the card.
‘Master. I would like another session.’
She reread her text over and over after sending it to the mysterious number, anxiety taking hold of her every movement.
The embers of that heated night hung in the air as she waited for a sign, any sign, of his return to her.
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