Nicely done, my sweet. You've hooked your prey. The little fish now dangles from your line. Such a simple creature. So easily ensnared. Lured by irresistible bait, he thought himself a hunter. Now he helplessly awaits your grasp.
Ironic, isn't it, my love? A submissive in control. You wield that rod with such grace and confidence that one would cast you as a domme. But the world doesn't know you like I do. The world never hears you pleading for surrender.
Just a few more catches and we'll have ourselves a meal. You'll crawl out of those hip boots as I gather wood. I'll build a fire and grill our prize. Afterward, you'll crawl across my lap, and I'll stoke a second fire, and then a third.
I'm glad that I agreed to take you fishing today. I really did want to play golf instead. But when you appeared in that outfit, parading that pert bottom in front of me, I just couldn't say no.
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