John seemed not to know the meaning of a gentle touch. His hands had continued to be hard and demanding on my tits and between my legs. Even while fu...king me his hands would crush my tits at times or connect in stinging slaps to the side of one of my breasts. I didn't know what had hurt worse on my swollen breasts. His crushing grip, the twisting pinches to my nipples or the slaps he delivered if I didn't move quickly enough in response to an order. I'd raised my head and looked after John had. It was small by American standards but it was home to me for the next year. I escorted her into the house. There was only one bedroom but there was a maid’s quarters. “You can stay in the maid’s room for a while,” I said with a smile. “Captain Davey, I thought you would want to sleep with me and do all the man and woman things.” “No, I just don’t want you on the streets. It is dangerous out there.” “Well then can I be your slave?” “How about maid? Americans don’t do slaves.” “Okay, I’ll cook. More

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