Grope Amy modest chest

His paws move around Amy's beautiful breasts as she squirms, protesting weakly, trying to struggle her way free. A part of her wants to give up, to take her clothing, find her boyfriend, and leave, but a small, repressed, and unexpected part of Amy held her still, paralyzed.

Then his grip tightened and squeezed, squashing the two fleshy orbs together, eliciting a light, sensual moan from Amy. Embarrassment instantly flooded her cheeks as her hands shot to her lips in an attempt to seal any other unruly noise.

"Tell me you love this slut."

"I-I-I like this."

"Call me, master."

Amy gasped, realizing she had not responded to his direct command. "Oh, s-sorry, master. I like being a slut for you." She immediately regrets what she'd just said; it felt like the most unnatural phrase in the entire world to her, like it was from some alternate universe where everything was opposite and wrong. She tried to deny what she'd said, even inside her own head.

John witnessed the encounter unfold from his seat. He felt conflicted. On one side, this was his best friend degrading the girl of his dreams. But on the other side, his girlfriend did bet her body and should be punished if she breaks a promise. Plus, hearing her speak like that and seeing how easily she seemed to submit, perhaps his best friend did know something about how to be a real man.

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