"Please Master Malcolm fuck my pussy."

Harry eyes Malcolm as his body language comes off as validly powerful. He held the belt with a sneer. No love in his eyes, only the passion to exploit Harry's feminine structure into his muse. His hands slowly pulled the belt and Harry upwards like a crew of sailors regaining their anchor.

Harry stood shorter than the five nine-ish men. Malcolm's hands let the leather fall from his hand while they participate in removing the maid costume from Harry's pale body. Malcolm's rough grainy hands fondle Harry's breasts and run one lone finger between Harry's cunt crevice.

"This outfit doesn't suit you. A maid haha no. You belong on a true leash. Being led around like the mutt that you are. You deserve to be put in slave clothing. Metal nipples clamps, ripped fishnets, ball gag to not hear your screams of affection, and clothespins that will attach..." He pinches Harry's cunt to demonstrate where the aforementioned items would be placed onto.

Harry moans getting her lips getting play with. Not wanting to upset Dudley's guest. She plays into his BDSM fantasy. "Master Malcolm a man like you gets what you crave. A slave whore like me couldn't think straight if I was left to my thoughts. I need a man not a master to tell me what to do. Please Master Malcolm rule over me. Order this dumb slave to do your bidding."

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