On the second day after handling her Imperial duties: talking with the other wives, signing papers, and trying to seem like she had everything under control until Argider found herself once again sucked into another horrid roleplay with this woman.
Nyra stood tall, her newfound manhood straining against the confines of her breeches, a wicked grin etched upon her face.
"On your knees, slave," Nyra ordered, her voice dripping with authority. "I want to see that pretty face of yours."
Ah, of course, it had to be a slave-master roleplay.
How else would she end up in this mess?
She couldn't even fathom how she got roped into it.
Nyra was stunning. Other men would practically beg to be dominated by her. But this? This was a whole new level of too much.
Argider hesitated for a moment, her pride warring with the need to obey.
But the glint in Nyra's eye made it clear that disobedience would not be tolerated.
