My own short skirt riding up my thighs, the air caressing my bare pussy. ‘I adore my pretty slut. Pamper you, make you so pretty. Don’t I?’ My...hands run up my slave’s smooth legs. From his high heeled feet, to his muscled thighs. As I stand my hand cups his silk covered cock. He moans I as stroke his bundled shaft. My nails drag against the panties. Up and down. Teasing his cock, mercilessly . ‘Yes! Mistress.’ His restraint weakens and he is shaking in an effort to not move. A shudder of. He figured that come the weekend he could be aman once more and find a real job.He then lifted his head from the pillow and saw the makeup residue leftbehind. He cringed at the sight as he realized that whatever he didmight not ever make him a man in his family's eyes again or even hisown.-----------------------------------------------------------------------As New Year's Day 1965 passed into a memory, Peter found himself moreengrossed in his life as Petra than ever. His earlier attempts. More

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