..it came as no shock when he "requested" for actual rendition of story. I admit feeling a flutter in my pussy as he "requested" for enactment, but to...protect my privacy I had to put my foot down. I sighed and thought " why request and not demand" as I rubbed my pussy to rid the itch and hoped he'd figure out how to go about it. He didn't disappoint....his next mail was like crack of whip in which he demanded that I, his slut will do as told unless objected by master. Oh, the joy when they. That had been the assignment. So far, it hadn’t gone well. Cold. Icy. Pure. She had never been good with words, using them with an economy even in conversation, feeling more secure in the art of listening. “How are you doing, Kylie? Time’s almost up.” She sighed, shaking her head, blowing her honey colored bangs from her eyes in exasperation. “It’s not fair.” “It wasn’t meant to be fair, pet. You asked for a distraction, I gave you one.” “Yes, but I wanted…” “I know what you wanted. What you. To the right, an rounded archwayleads under a wide staircase into the dining room. The staircasedescends along the northwest wall to a small landing, then turns alongthe mudroom wall and descends a short flight to the lobby floor. Asmall desk in the corner of the stairway is the only evidence that thisis a business lobby and not a living room.The lobby is furnished with a large Edwardian Sofa more or less centeredin the room, with matching chairs, end and coffee tables. Thisconversation pit. No doubt some splintered part of one of my alter egos would still be able to recall if it could be found, but I can actually remember blanking out the "pain" of the embarrassment. I only remember that I had remained red-faced and smiling throughout Her dissertation.She did make me sit with the Girls for the choir and always called me by the name "Miss Hansomson" thereafter. I almost got used to it but always blushed when Miss Mackie spoke directly to me. I don't know how She got away with it.
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