“Mistress…” Vi whines, imitation puppy ears flailing about as she rubs her flushed cheek against your stomach. The sharp edge of her nose nudges your belly button, insistent and needy. Almost like she’s begging you for a treat.

Which you know she is. She always is.

Scared hands crawl forward to cup your hips, pulling you lower half forward with nervous tugs. As if she’ll be admonished for just wanting to be closer to you.

Just wanting a bit more of your touch.

“Mistressss…”