It was a story I had seen many times in my medical career. People with depression often turned to drugs and alcohol. It made no difference if your father was a billionaire or homeless, that was a vicious cycle that was nearly impossible to break."Then a few years ago, I came across an account of a man who seemed to control several women, to have true mind control over them. He had died in a car crash, but his mate survived, unlike some of the other women who had been under his control. I think you know her, Emily is her name."I blinked. Emily had led this man to me?"No, Master! I swear!" I heard her cry out in pain. "I would never betray you!"I thought reassuring thoughts to Emily, angry at myself for forgetting that even my thoughts and emotions could cause great pain for the women in my life."I think you know the answer to that question," I answered deliberately. "You were at my house yesterday, you know that she was there. This doesn't impress me, that you can drop names."He. Shifting the popsicle stick to the other side of her mouth, Aya swallows softly. Her sharp brows pinch and a bead of sweat rolls down past her temple. Fingers curl, slowly scrunching up the hem of her shirt until it lifts above her waist. Her hand glides under the lip of her panties, pushing them out of the way as her fingers draw up and down her soft slip unimpeded. Aya’s mouth slips open and she groans softly. The stick hangs out, but she clamps her lips down upon it as she hums in selfish delight. As her attentions are drawn more towards her efforts of self-pleasuring, she turns her back away from the city. Leaning back against the railing at first, slowly her feet slip forward as she settles down to the floor, her fingers ceaselessly busy. She teases her clit with feathery swirls of her digits before sliding them along her slit. Her tummy twitches, provoking a swift gasp of breath each time it does. Trails of perspiration run from her brows to her chin and down her neck. She.
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