It had to, Mistress had given me instructions.“Marie …” I sensed her pause, “my bottom wasn’t the only place that was punished.” I let tha... sink in.Eventually she spoke. “Indeed? Better show me then.”Her hands came off my bottom and my skirt started to fall back into place. Suddenly I felt brazen. This whole thing was going the way I knew Mistress had hoped. I stood up and turned around. She was standing back against the wall, the pot of salve in one hand. Almost seductively I pulled the. At the door we stopped at, he knocked and waited.Someone called out, for us to come in, and our guide let us in. He then shut the door behind us, but he stayed on the other side. This room was opulent.A medium-tall Arabian man dressed in a suit and wearing a ghutrah with an agal entered from another room. He smiled as he put out his hands to us, and accented English he said, “Welcome, please come this way.”He gestured, and we followed him to a dining room designed to seat sixteen people. One. God! Heather seemed to be a little more beautiful every time I looked at her and when she smiled at me..."All done," the man said, wiping at my new tattoo with a cloth and some alcohol or something. It burned anyway and I winced, hissing between my teeth."It looks good," Heather decided and I looked down, seeing sort of a splotchy black spade about as big as the pad of a grown man's thumb."Look better once it heals," the guy told us. "Just keep it clean. Don't be pickin' at the scab. Let it. He knew where the Suburban would be, or at least should be, so he would check on it first and if it were gone he would check of the Focus. As soon as school got out he would ride his bike and check on the Focus. If it was gone, he rode down to the motel to check there. So far, he had no luck at whatsoever. The car was either in the Wilson driveway, carport or gone, but he had never found it at the motel again. At least not yet. And the Suburban was always in its space in front of the school.One.
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I was furious with myself for my momentary loss of control – thrusting my breasts towards the feather was bad enough, but moaning was an inexcusable
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