Kneel. Look up. Your leather-clad mistress stands above you, every inch of her radiating power and control. The weight of her command isn’t in her voice — it’s in the way her chest rises, in the sway of those perfect tits that demand your eyes, your focus, your obedience. Every tease, every slow movement pulls you deeper under her spell until submission isn’t a choice — it’s your purpose. In this world, you don’t just worship her leather… you worship <i>her</i>. And it all starts with those perfect tits you were born to obey.

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