"Ahh!" she breathed out. Thrusting her hips hand and slow. Her mouth close to his, both open, hers exhaling long in pleasure, his letting out a wounde... wail. Joined in the wonderful moment that seemed to stretch on and on. The r****t and the ****d. The victim and the perpetrator. The owner and the slave.His face firmly held in her hands, the boy finally stopped his bawling. He didn't look any happier however. Broken. Frightened. And so, so vulnerable."Beautiful!" she whispered. Then gave his. Nothing she had been through could ever have prepared herself for this torture.She was beside herself. What could have gone wrong? She asked herself thisquestion over and over, pointlessly.?Mrs. Billingsley, the president will see you now,? the young, buxomreceptionist sneered, not bothering to look up from her computer screen.?Th-thank you,? Katie stammered, inching her way to the gargantuan setof walnut doors that enclosed the decorative entrance hall to the office ofForrester Davison, the. More

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