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I am princess lacy money mistress and I am in the mood to torment piggies.
I pace around my bedroom in front of my walk-in wardrobe and survey the many, many items of clothing that pay pigs, loser boys, and mind-melted males have sent me over the years."Hmmmm," I hummed to myself, my full red lips puckered into a girly pout and then lit up with one of the devilish smirks that had sent many a weak man into financial and psycholoigcal ruin.
My stunning collection of high heels (Manola, Louboutins, Choo)are lined up under an equally extensive assortment of dresses I wore to extract the most cash from pigs and slaves. My Wolford stockings were folded neatly alongside the La Perla and AgentProvocateur lingerie many wallets had been raped to pay for.
"What to wear . . . " I cooed and the very thought sent my constantly-erect vermillion pink nipples stiff and tingling. Slowly I drew out a pair of stockings and slid them up my long lithe legs and fastened them to my midnight black thong.
I then slid into a pair of Louboutins that complimented my smooth long limbs to perfection and admired myself in one of the many full-lenght mirrors that adorned my bedroom. My breasts stood firm, pert and proud on my sculpted body, the very sight of them giving me an erotic thrill. If it was sexy for me it would be torture for any man lucky or, indeed, unlucky enough to cross my path today. "Bra or no bra?" I thought, knowing full well I did not need one.
This would have to be delicate: too much of my pointed pink nipples brushing up against my crisp cream-coloured blouse and then too many car crashes and bruised foreheads from men walking into each other in mouth-gaping amazement as my full but pert breasts jiggled on, by causing prolonged wanking sessions for abject males.And, I tittered, smouldering looks of desire and hatred from lesser females . . .
Piggies, this is only the begin of my day..