Scott s Yucca Man Tale
- 1 year ago
- 57
- 0
A SLAVE’S TALE 2. free porn video
This is the second of the two stolen chapters of a seven part series. I am reprinting it and I then intend to post the final five parts showing all seven chapters with their true authorship.
A SLAVE’S TALE 2.
“I abhor unjustified cruelty but a crime cannot go unpunished as I am sure you will agree. When you were thrashed did your last Mistress use your bottom?”
“No Miss. I rebelled before she got that far Miss.”
“Good, then we will make use of that. You understand what this punishment is for and why it is necessary?”
“Yes Miss.”
“I think 24 strokes will suffice this time.”
She blanched and seemed to cower a little but made no protest. I picked up my riding crop from the table and slowly stood up.
“Stand up slut.”
She did so with amazing speed.
“Turn around and then bend over my desk.”
Hesitantly but obediently she did so. I paused to admire her rather sweet and pert bottom. Although her back was criss-crossed with her recent beating her bottom was almost unblemished although there were signs of previous punishments now almost gone.
“I think 24 strokes is good enough compensation for a broken window. I will not hold back but I think I have enough skill to spread them out and I hope I will not break the skin. Are you ready? Do you need a muzzle or gag?”
“No Miss and I’m ready Miss.”
“Good. Grip the far side of the desk. Spread your feet about a yard apart.”
I stood back swishing the crop through the air. I could see her body trembling slightly. I let the crop lie quietly on her left cheek. She flinched. Then ...
I brought the crop down hard on her cheek. She yelped, as much in surprise as pain I think. A red mark quickly formed where I had landed the first blow. I stroked her right cheek with the crop. She tensed. The second blow landed opposite the first. This time she took it in silence but flinched from the sharpness of the strike. I stopped to admire my handiwork before returning to the left cheek. I continued left then right for a further 12 strokes and then paused. She had yelped once or twice but had not flinched. Her cheeks were by now a bright pink colour. I touched them with the palm of my hand and could feel the heat coming from them. I stroked them gently. They were soft and smooth beneath my fingers.
“Ready to continue slut?”
She grunted, not trusting herself to speak, and nodded her head. I brandished the crop once more but aimed lower this time striking where her bottom met her left thigh. This time she yelped in earnest. As she did when I landed one on her right thigh. After that she simply whimpered as I covered the backs of her thighs with a neat pattern of crop marks.
Finally I reach 24 and lay the crop down on the desk in her view. With my hand I stroked her bruised and battered bottom and thighs. She had confirmed my belief that she had previously rebelled not because of her inability to take punishment but as a result of the cruelty of her last Mistress. On a whim I reached between her legs and found her pussy wet. I was pleased to discover that this beating had actually turned her on! I slid a finger between her wet lips.
“Well, well my little slut seems to have a wet cunt,” I said with mocking tones.
I coated two fingers with her juices and slid them inside her. I moved them around, turning them this way and that, sliding them in and out. She started to push back against them and I could sense her eagerness. I continued to penetrate her and she gyrated her hips in response. A few moans escaped from her lips. Her response grew more intense until I could feel that her orgasm was near. I pulled out of her.
“This is a punishment, not a reward cunt,” I told her severely, “stand up and follow me.”
I turned on my heels and walked out of the living room and towards the kitchen. I could hear her scurrying behind me. I liked the way she waited by the kitchen door for further instructions. I pulled a chair out from the table.
“Sit.”
Tentatively she came in and sat at the table, wincing slightly as she lowered her bottom onto the chair. I opened the fridge and took out the remains of a pasta dish that I had eaten earlier and put it in the microwave. I took two glasses and filled one with water and placed it in front of her and filled the second with red wine for myself. 3 o’clock in the morning is an odd time to be drinking wine but it had been a very odd night. She had grabbed the glass of water and gulped it straight down so I re-filled it for her. The microwave pinged and I put the plate and a fork in front of her.
“Eat. Then remain seated till I return.”
“Yes Miss. Thank you Miss.”
She immediately started attacking the pasta. I left her to it and went back upstairs partly to think and partly to hunt out some suitable clothes. Although the rain had stopped it was still not a pleasant night out there but I wasn’t ready to allow her to stay quite yet. I went into Mary’s old room. I had bought her a few clothes while she was with me but she had left me naked as was only right and proper. Although in our society nudity is quite accepted with slaves taken out in public there were times when clothing was a good idea. In cold weather for example or on inclement nights such as this one. In her wardrobe I found a pair of sturdy shoes, some thick socks, a pair of slacks and a t-shirt. I also found a coat I’d bought her during a particularly nasty cold spell a few months ago. The girls I train are an investment for me so I don’t want them getting sick. I d****d them all over my arm and returned to the kitchen. Slut (as I thought of her now) was still seated at the table. Her plate was licked clean.
“Shoe size?” I demanded.
She jumped with surprise. “Errrr, 4 Miss.”
I put the shoes on the table next to her along with the socks.
“These are 5 but the socks are thick and they’ll do for now.”
I dumped the rest of the clothes alongside the shoes and sat down and looked at her. She looked at the pile of clothes and then at me.
“It seems to me you have a few options. The clothes are yours whichever option you choose. First you can leave here and continue with your life on the run better off than when you broke in apart from a few stripes on your bottom. Until they catch you. Which they will, they always do. There is always a reward out for runaways and it is large enough to tempt most people. You could give up now and jump of the main bridge into the icy waters below but somehow I don’t think that’s your style. The third option is to consider my offer. I won’t take an answer now, you need time to think.
“To .. to become a slave?”
“To be properly trained and then sold into a good household where you will be treated properly.”
I picked up the bag and loaded it back up with the bread, cheese and jam.
“Get dressed slut.”
She immediately started to pull on the clothing I’d provided. I swapped the packet of expensive biscuits for a cheaper variety and added that to the bag. There are limits and I’m not made of money. She was busy lacing up the slightly over-sized shoes when I sat back down.
“You need time to decided on your choices. If, in the end, you decide to accept my offer return here at dusk. Come to the front door but remove all your clothes before you ring the bell. Is that understood?”
“Yes Miss.”
“Now put of the coat and take the bag of supplies with you. Hide yourself well today and maybe I’ll see you at dusk.”
I stood up and took the back door key from my pocket, unlocked the door and held it open. She put on the coat and picked up the bag. She walked through the door before turning back to me.
“Thank you Miss. I will think about your offer, I really will, I promise.”
With that she turned away, walked down the garden, flung the bag over the fence and then climbed over. Would I ever see her again? Who knows? At least she was now warm and well-shod. I wandered back into the living room. I put the dirty towel into the laundry and her tattered smock into the trash. I turned out the fire and the lights and made my way back to bed still troubled.
Had I done the right thing? Should I have let her stay overnight? Will she do the right thing and return?
All that and a list of things to do tomorrow. From the mundane, call a glazier, to the more complex, start proceedings against Mistress _____ the rogue in our midst. It was well past 4 o’clock before I finally fell asleep, lightly stroking my pussy and dreaming of being serviced by a new maid.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The next day I woke to glorious sunshine and the world had that newly washed feel that sunshine gives it after a night of rain. I lay there revelling in it when I heard noises from downstairs. After a quick moment of panic I calmed down and worked out it was Magda having let herself in, busy at work preparing my breakfast. I relaxed and enjoyed the warmth of the sun coming through the windows.
Magda was one of my great successes. I’d bought her as a peasant girl several years ago and put her through the usual 6 months of training. In that time she had shown a particular aptitude in the kitchen so I had started her on a catering course at which she did very well. When I sold her on to a well-trusted Mistress friend part of the deal was that she would continue to allow Magda to train at the college and, true to her word, she did so. So good was she and so sought after for dinner parties and other functions that after 5 years her new owner released her and she now ran her own business. Since I had sold Mary 3 days before I had hired Magda to come in each day to cook and prepare meals for me.
“Mistress?” Magda’s voice came softly up the stairs.
“Yes, Magda?”
“Would you like breakfast up there or in the dining room, Mistress?”
“Just in the kitchen will be fine Magda. I’ll be down directly.”
Still suffering from a lack of sleep I dragged myself out of bed. The bedside clock read 8.30. I put on my silk robe and went downstairs. In the kitchen Magda was busy at the stove.
“Good morning, Magda.”
“Good morning Mistress. Did you have trouble last night?”
“Why do you ask?”
“When I came in there was broken glass all over the floor, Mistress.”
“Ahhh that. Yes I had an uninvited guest last night but I dealt with it.”
“I’ve swept it up as well as I could, Mistress but I would suggest slippers be worn to be on the safe side.”
“Thank you Magda that’s very thoughtful. I will get it thoroughly cleaned later. I must also contact a glazier. Do you happen to know anyone?”
“There is a Ms Rita, Mistress. I have heard good reports about her.”
“I shall contact her after breakfast.”
A word here about our society and the hierarchies within it. We almost never use surnames only first names and titles. At the top of society are the nobility who are always referred to as Lady this or Highness that. Below them are Mistresses like myself and always referred to as Mistress or Miss. I am always known as Mistress Christine. This gives a clear indication of my role and status in life. Below that come the craftswomen. They are all free either through birth or through being given their freedom but can be recalled to their slavery. They always use the title Ms. At the bottom are the slaves who have no title and are just called by their first names or if they are misbehaving by some cruder term such as ‘slut’ or ‘whore’. Magda is in a sort of transition stage where she is technically still a slave and could be recalled to slavery at any time but she is also free to the extent that she runs her own business and lives on the proceeds. Her Mistress may at some point in the future grant her full freedom or she may not or may recall her to slavery if she is needed. In the meantime she takes a percentage of Magda’s profits in return for the loss of her service.
A plate is laid on the table in front of me. My usual boiled egg and toast. I don’t know how, whether it is through cooking skill or magic and alchemy, nothing tastes quite as good as an egg cooked by Magda’s fair hand. I look at her as she returns to preparing food for later in the day. She is an exceptional beauty with long blonde hair and a captivating smile. She is wearing very unflattering chef’s whites that hide her lovely figure. As I savour my egg I smile and remember her naked and kneeling before me and I know I could rekindle that moment with a sharp command.
“What are you cooking for me this evening, Magda?”
“A vegetable dish, Mistress. I shall pre-cook it and you can just re-heat it when you wish. Such a pity though ....”
“What is?”
“I have just got some beautiful fresh sea bream, Mistress. But they need a gentle hand and to be cooked just before they are eaten. I can’t prepare them much in advance and you haven’t booked me for the evenings.”
“Are they that good?” I ask, my curiosity pricked. Of all my weaknesses a love of fish is among the greatest.
“They are some of the finest I’ve come across, Mistress. Caught last night and landed only early this morning.”
I went back to my egg deep in thought. If she, whatever the sluts name was, did return tonight then a little assistance might not come amiss.
“Are you booked anywhere tonight Magda?”
“No Mistress.”
“Then maybe you could cook the fish for me this evening as well as maybe another couple of more fun things. I may or may not get a visitor again this evening.”
“The same one as last night, Mistress?”
“Perhaps so but this time using the more conventional entrance. I have, perhaps foolishly, offered her a post as my new trainee.”
“I’m sure your judgement is good Mistress. It has never been wrong in the past.”
“Thank you Magda your flattery is noted and appreciated,” I smiled at her and she responded with one of her own dazzling smiles.
“I’d love to cook for you this evening Mistress ... and help in any other way I can.”
“Excellent. Can you be here just before dusk?”
“Certainly Mistress.”
“Good,” I rose from the table. “I shall be in the study Magda. There are a couple of things to sort out.”
“Very good Mistress.”
xxxxxxxxxxxx
In my study I sat at my desk and contemplated the evening ahead. Having Magda there could increase the experience. Apart from her cooking Magda had other skills not least of which was her ability to pleasure her Mistresses and, at their command, any slave offered to her. I had taught her a certain amount in the time she had been with me but, to give justice where it is due, the Mistress I had sold her on to had taken her to a new level. I had used Magda’s skills a few time since for a small fee and well worth it she had been. But for now I had more pressing things to attend to.
I found Ms Rita’s number and called her and booked her for later that afternoon. I then phoned a good friend Mistress Tiana who was on the Mistress council. Although we are more or less above the law we still have a strict code of ethics which we are expected to adhere to. This was overseen by a council of Mistresses and chaired by one of the noble ladies. I had sat on the council on three occasions in the past and I knew they took their responsibilities seriously. I explained to Tiana my concerns about the slut’s treatment at the hand of Mistress ____ as well as the allegations of procuring slaves on the black market. She took what I said very seriously and said that she would report it all to the council. She would also at some point like to speak with the slut first hand.
When I returned to the kitchen Magda had left leaving behind some bread and soup for my lunch and a note promising to return before dusk as she had promised. I re-heated the soup and then sat at the kitchen table thinking about the evening ahead.
A SLAVE’S TALE 2.
“I abhor unjustified cruelty but a crime cannot go unpunished as I am sure you will agree. When you were thrashed did your last Mistress use your bottom?”
“No Miss. I rebelled before she got that far Miss.”
“Good, then we will make use of that. You understand what this punishment is for and why it is necessary?”
“Yes Miss.”
“I think 24 strokes will suffice this time.”
She blanched and seemed to cower a little but made no protest. I picked up my riding crop from the table and slowly stood up.
“Stand up slut.”
She did so with amazing speed.
“Turn around and then bend over my desk.”
Hesitantly but obediently she did so. I paused to admire her rather sweet and pert bottom. Although her back was criss-crossed with her recent beating her bottom was almost unblemished although there were signs of previous punishments now almost gone.
“I think 24 strokes is good enough compensation for a broken window. I will not hold back but I think I have enough skill to spread them out and I hope I will not break the skin. Are you ready? Do you need a muzzle or gag?”
“No Miss and I’m ready Miss.”
“Good. Grip the far side of the desk. Spread your feet about a yard apart.”
I stood back swishing the crop through the air. I could see her body trembling slightly. I let the crop lie quietly on her left cheek. She flinched. Then ...
I brought the crop down hard on her cheek. She yelped, as much in surprise as pain I think. A red mark quickly formed where I had landed the first blow. I stroked her right cheek with the crop. She tensed. The second blow landed opposite the first. This time she took it in silence but flinched from the sharpness of the strike. I stopped to admire my handiwork before returning to the left cheek. I continued left then right for a further 12 strokes and then paused. She had yelped once or twice but had not flinched. Her cheeks were by now a bright pink colour. I touched them with the palm of my hand and could feel the heat coming from them. I stroked them gently. They were soft and smooth beneath my fingers.
“Ready to continue slut?”
She grunted, not trusting herself to speak, and nodded her head. I brandished the crop once more but aimed lower this time striking where her bottom met her left thigh. This time she yelped in earnest. As she did when I landed one on her right thigh. After that she simply whimpered as I covered the backs of her thighs with a neat pattern of crop marks.
Finally I reach 24 and lay the crop down on the desk in her view. With my hand I stroked her bruised and battered bottom and thighs. She had confirmed my belief that she had previously rebelled not because of her inability to take punishment but as a result of the cruelty of her last Mistress. On a whim I reached between her legs and found her pussy wet. I was pleased to discover that this beating had actually turned her on! I slid a finger between her wet lips.
“Well, well my little slut seems to have a wet cunt,” I said with mocking tones.
I coated two fingers with her juices and slid them inside her. I moved them around, turning them this way and that, sliding them in and out. She started to push back against them and I could sense her eagerness. I continued to penetrate her and she gyrated her hips in response. A few moans escaped from her lips. Her response grew more intense until I could feel that her orgasm was near. I pulled out of her.
“This is a punishment, not a reward cunt,” I told her severely, “stand up and follow me.”
I turned on my heels and walked out of the living room and towards the kitchen. I could hear her scurrying behind me. I liked the way she waited by the kitchen door for further instructions. I pulled a chair out from the table.
“Sit.”
Tentatively she came in and sat at the table, wincing slightly as she lowered her bottom onto the chair. I opened the fridge and took out the remains of a pasta dish that I had eaten earlier and put it in the microwave. I took two glasses and filled one with water and placed it in front of her and filled the second with red wine for myself. 3 o’clock in the morning is an odd time to be drinking wine but it had been a very odd night. She had grabbed the glass of water and gulped it straight down so I re-filled it for her. The microwave pinged and I put the plate and a fork in front of her.
“Eat. Then remain seated till I return.”
“Yes Miss. Thank you Miss.”
She immediately started attacking the pasta. I left her to it and went back upstairs partly to think and partly to hunt out some suitable clothes. Although the rain had stopped it was still not a pleasant night out there but I wasn’t ready to allow her to stay quite yet. I went into Mary’s old room. I had bought her a few clothes while she was with me but she had left me naked as was only right and proper. Although in our society nudity is quite accepted with slaves taken out in public there were times when clothing was a good idea. In cold weather for example or on inclement nights such as this one. In her wardrobe I found a pair of sturdy shoes, some thick socks, a pair of slacks and a t-shirt. I also found a coat I’d bought her during a particularly nasty cold spell a few months ago. The girls I train are an investment for me so I don’t want them getting sick. I d****d them all over my arm and returned to the kitchen. Slut (as I thought of her now) was still seated at the table. Her plate was licked clean.
“Shoe size?” I demanded.
She jumped with surprise. “Errrr, 4 Miss.”
I put the shoes on the table next to her along with the socks.
“These are 5 but the socks are thick and they’ll do for now.”
I dumped the rest of the clothes alongside the shoes and sat down and looked at her. She looked at the pile of clothes and then at me.
“It seems to me you have a few options. The clothes are yours whichever option you choose. First you can leave here and continue with your life on the run better off than when you broke in apart from a few stripes on your bottom. Until they catch you. Which they will, they always do. There is always a reward out for runaways and it is large enough to tempt most people. You could give up now and jump of the main bridge into the icy waters below but somehow I don’t think that’s your style. The third option is to consider my offer. I won’t take an answer now, you need time to think.
“To .. to become a slave?”
“To be properly trained and then sold into a good household where you will be treated properly.”
I picked up the bag and loaded it back up with the bread, cheese and jam.
“Get dressed slut.”
She immediately started to pull on the clothing I’d provided. I swapped the packet of expensive biscuits for a cheaper variety and added that to the bag. There are limits and I’m not made of money. She was busy lacing up the slightly over-sized shoes when I sat back down.
“You need time to decided on your choices. If, in the end, you decide to accept my offer return here at dusk. Come to the front door but remove all your clothes before you ring the bell. Is that understood?”
“Yes Miss.”
“Now put of the coat and take the bag of supplies with you. Hide yourself well today and maybe I’ll see you at dusk.”
I stood up and took the back door key from my pocket, unlocked the door and held it open. She put on the coat and picked up the bag. She walked through the door before turning back to me.
“Thank you Miss. I will think about your offer, I really will, I promise.”
With that she turned away, walked down the garden, flung the bag over the fence and then climbed over. Would I ever see her again? Who knows? At least she was now warm and well-shod. I wandered back into the living room. I put the dirty towel into the laundry and her tattered smock into the trash. I turned out the fire and the lights and made my way back to bed still troubled.
Had I done the right thing? Should I have let her stay overnight? Will she do the right thing and return?
All that and a list of things to do tomorrow. From the mundane, call a glazier, to the more complex, start proceedings against Mistress _____ the rogue in our midst. It was well past 4 o’clock before I finally fell asleep, lightly stroking my pussy and dreaming of being serviced by a new maid.
xxxxxxxxxxx
The next day I woke to glorious sunshine and the world had that newly washed feel that sunshine gives it after a night of rain. I lay there revelling in it when I heard noises from downstairs. After a quick moment of panic I calmed down and worked out it was Magda having let herself in, busy at work preparing my breakfast. I relaxed and enjoyed the warmth of the sun coming through the windows.
Magda was one of my great successes. I’d bought her as a peasant girl several years ago and put her through the usual 6 months of training. In that time she had shown a particular aptitude in the kitchen so I had started her on a catering course at which she did very well. When I sold her on to a well-trusted Mistress friend part of the deal was that she would continue to allow Magda to train at the college and, true to her word, she did so. So good was she and so sought after for dinner parties and other functions that after 5 years her new owner released her and she now ran her own business. Since I had sold Mary 3 days before I had hired Magda to come in each day to cook and prepare meals for me.
“Mistress?” Magda’s voice came softly up the stairs.
“Yes, Magda?”
“Would you like breakfast up there or in the dining room, Mistress?”
“Just in the kitchen will be fine Magda. I’ll be down directly.”
Still suffering from a lack of sleep I dragged myself out of bed. The bedside clock read 8.30. I put on my silk robe and went downstairs. In the kitchen Magda was busy at the stove.
“Good morning, Magda.”
“Good morning Mistress. Did you have trouble last night?”
“Why do you ask?”
“When I came in there was broken glass all over the floor, Mistress.”
“Ahhh that. Yes I had an uninvited guest last night but I dealt with it.”
“I’ve swept it up as well as I could, Mistress but I would suggest slippers be worn to be on the safe side.”
“Thank you Magda that’s very thoughtful. I will get it thoroughly cleaned later. I must also contact a glazier. Do you happen to know anyone?”
“There is a Ms Rita, Mistress. I have heard good reports about her.”
“I shall contact her after breakfast.”
A word here about our society and the hierarchies within it. We almost never use surnames only first names and titles. At the top of society are the nobility who are always referred to as Lady this or Highness that. Below them are Mistresses like myself and always referred to as Mistress or Miss. I am always known as Mistress Christine. This gives a clear indication of my role and status in life. Below that come the craftswomen. They are all free either through birth or through being given their freedom but can be recalled to their slavery. They always use the title Ms. At the bottom are the slaves who have no title and are just called by their first names or if they are misbehaving by some cruder term such as ‘slut’ or ‘whore’. Magda is in a sort of transition stage where she is technically still a slave and could be recalled to slavery at any time but she is also free to the extent that she runs her own business and lives on the proceeds. Her Mistress may at some point in the future grant her full freedom or she may not or may recall her to slavery if she is needed. In the meantime she takes a percentage of Magda’s profits in return for the loss of her service.
A plate is laid on the table in front of me. My usual boiled egg and toast. I don’t know how, whether it is through cooking skill or magic and alchemy, nothing tastes quite as good as an egg cooked by Magda’s fair hand. I look at her as she returns to preparing food for later in the day. She is an exceptional beauty with long blonde hair and a captivating smile. She is wearing very unflattering chef’s whites that hide her lovely figure. As I savour my egg I smile and remember her naked and kneeling before me and I know I could rekindle that moment with a sharp command.
“What are you cooking for me this evening, Magda?”
“A vegetable dish, Mistress. I shall pre-cook it and you can just re-heat it when you wish. Such a pity though ....”
“What is?”
“I have just got some beautiful fresh sea bream, Mistress. But they need a gentle hand and to be cooked just before they are eaten. I can’t prepare them much in advance and you haven’t booked me for the evenings.”
“Are they that good?” I ask, my curiosity pricked. Of all my weaknesses a love of fish is among the greatest.
“They are some of the finest I’ve come across, Mistress. Caught last night and landed only early this morning.”
I went back to my egg deep in thought. If she, whatever the sluts name was, did return tonight then a little assistance might not come amiss.
“Are you booked anywhere tonight Magda?”
“No Mistress.”
“Then maybe you could cook the fish for me this evening as well as maybe another couple of more fun things. I may or may not get a visitor again this evening.”
“The same one as last night, Mistress?”
“Perhaps so but this time using the more conventional entrance. I have, perhaps foolishly, offered her a post as my new trainee.”
“I’m sure your judgement is good Mistress. It has never been wrong in the past.”
“Thank you Magda your flattery is noted and appreciated,” I smiled at her and she responded with one of her own dazzling smiles.
“I’d love to cook for you this evening Mistress ... and help in any other way I can.”
“Excellent. Can you be here just before dusk?”
“Certainly Mistress.”
“Good,” I rose from the table. “I shall be in the study Magda. There are a couple of things to sort out.”
“Very good Mistress.”
xxxxxxxxxxxx
In my study I sat at my desk and contemplated the evening ahead. Having Magda there could increase the experience. Apart from her cooking Magda had other skills not least of which was her ability to pleasure her Mistresses and, at their command, any slave offered to her. I had taught her a certain amount in the time she had been with me but, to give justice where it is due, the Mistress I had sold her on to had taken her to a new level. I had used Magda’s skills a few time since for a small fee and well worth it she had been. But for now I had more pressing things to attend to.
I found Ms Rita’s number and called her and booked her for later that afternoon. I then phoned a good friend Mistress Tiana who was on the Mistress council. Although we are more or less above the law we still have a strict code of ethics which we are expected to adhere to. This was overseen by a council of Mistresses and chaired by one of the noble ladies. I had sat on the council on three occasions in the past and I knew they took their responsibilities seriously. I explained to Tiana my concerns about the slut’s treatment at the hand of Mistress ____ as well as the allegations of procuring slaves on the black market. She took what I said very seriously and said that she would report it all to the council. She would also at some point like to speak with the slut first hand.
When I returned to the kitchen Magda had left leaving behind some bread and soup for my lunch and a note promising to return before dusk as she had promised. I re-heated the soup and then sat at the kitchen table thinking about the evening ahead.
Mikayla
- 09.07.2020
- 139
- 0
Uncle Monty s Tale
- 4 years ago
- 56
- 0
Draft Dodger On The Rag A Bunny s Tale
- 3 years ago
- 50
- 0
