The door closing. I sit up in position, abandoning my blanket and sitting straight up, my feet beneath me, knees in front, then spread, my hands on th... floor, and tits pushed out. Looking down at the floor. I’m getting wet… I can hear him moving, I mustn’t feet, not until I am signaled to do so. He doesn’t speak either, he usually uses body language, or signals to communicate with me. He speaks now and then, particularly if I’m really good – or really bad…I can’t look at him either, not his. My self pity had turned to anger, how could she leave like that without a word spoken, the bitch. Our, now my, house had an extra small room that she used as her dressing area and I was determined to throw all her belongings out in the street. I opened the walk-in wardrobe door and couldn't believe the amount of clothes that were in there. Not only clothes but shoes, and hats as well. At the very back were a line of shoe boxes, more shoes I thought but I was wrong, for they were filled with. More

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