As the night drew to a close, Mistress Anura Laas staggered out of the goth club, her body thrumming with the adrenaline of a wild night out. Her bladder was hurting—aching, in fact—and she was desperate to find relief. She'd been dancing for hours, drinking more than she'd anticipated, and now she couldn't hold it in any longer.
She spotted her slave, huddled in a corner of the alleyway, his eyes trained on her feet as she approached. He knew what was coming next. He always did. He scrambled to his feet as she walked over, his face flushing with anticipation and fear.
"Good boy," she purred, her voice thick with seduction. She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him around to the back of the building him.
