“No!” she said, “Look maybe it was a mistake ok, maybe I’m not cut out to be a sex slave?”
“But we’ve got all the gear now, the hoist and the tripod and the wheel,” I explained. “We could have a meal?” she suggested. Xxx “No, Pattie can get a job, work off some of that excess energy,” I insisted, “And she can get my breakfast for six each morning.”
“Six, you must be joking!” she complained, “Oh lord you’re serious?”
“Deadly,” I agreed. “What are you doing?” I asked as I dried myself. “I can try,” I explained. It was almost second nature now, I could do it on automatic pilot and so there I was entirely dressed in black leather with my semi hard tool hanging out tying my gorgeous house slave to the fuck wheel and I was thinking about pub grub and car insurance.
