A latex girl thing

“If it makes you feel better, Master, just call me Slave,” she said with a kind smile. “I’ve been called quite a few names in my life, but Slave has always been the most popular with me.”

“Slave it is,” said Rusty, taking his drink from the bartender. Who was he to ask her too deep questions: he was married; he wasn’t using his real name; why would she have to give him a real name? “Okay, Slave, I have to say this, but you fucking rock.” He gestured towards her body. “Your look’s killer.”

“Thank you, Master,” she grinned. “I drink sperm once a day to maintain myself.”

Rusty nearly spilled his drink out of his mouth. He wiped his mouth and said, “Wow, the mouth on you, girl.”

She winked and said, “It’s a slutty mouth, Master. It has done very bad things.”

Shifting his cock in his pants with his free hand, Rusty gestured with his gin-filled hand towards her unusual crucifix. “So, you’re strictly a submissive? Is that what your cross represents? I mean that’s hot too.”

“There’s more than one meaning to it, Master,” said Slave. She leaned closer to him so he could examine it in further detail. Rusty could see the whip marks on the naked body, the subject’s agonized face, her pierced tits, and the crown of thorns on her head. “I rarely dominate men, like once in a great while. It also represents my own spiritual struggles.”