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’ Richard informed her with the patience of a robot for an idiot patient. He helped her sit up ignoring her breasts as they bounced loose. He stuffe... the blankets around her including a bit for a hood. The intent was to keep her warm and moist. Silently he spoon fed her warm coffee and cold cereal. She sipped slowly even as her nostrils twitched and her upper torso occasionally convulsed. Once she was finished he found her bra and cut it so it could be used to wrap and tie her crossed wrists. ”“When would you want to meet her?”“I think we’d want to be there around 1802. Paulina’s first husband died toward the end of his tour at Saint Dominque. He had been a general in the French Army and was sent to be governor of a French holding in the West Indies. He died from some kind of fever and his wife returned home with their son.”Agnes sat on my lap and began unbuttoning my shirt. “And I suppose you want to get to her before she remarries. How old was she in 1802?”As I moved my hand up. It takes over my body, relaxing the muscles and whispering to me to move just a little bit closer to him, to close the half-inch gap that still stands between us. I move my body forward. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The gap between us closes and I realize immediately that he has an erection. I can feel it through the taut cloth of his jeans. A part of me wants to draw away again, to blush and apologize and then beat a hasty retreat, but I’m tired of being afraid, afraid of men. I am laid flat on my back on the dirt floor in the center of an arena. A spreader bar attaches to my legs, lifting them so my wrists can be attached to my ankles. An oily liquid is poured over my body. It smells sweet and feels thick and slimy. I am stretched wide and on display, my holes open and inviting. My Master announces "My bitch is here to perform. Anyone can use her in any manner he pleases."My breasts are filled with milk and the pressure builds. My pussy is wet and.
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