.. mmmff... mmfff...M-Master.” The memory did not appear to be very pleasant by the look on her face!“Mmmm... quite a treat for an ex-Lady of the ...anor.” She sobbed openly at that. “I told you to stop snivelling, girl!Go into that bedroom and get your arse up.”“Pleee... eeease, Master... oooh... pleee... eeease...”“Move!” She scuttled into the bedroom, bottom bouncing. I went to the cabinet where I knew the corrective instruments were kept and took out a cane. Turning, I saw a buxom bottom up. ***So there I was, a rainy Friday night, no money, no job and a train ticket to a tiny little hamlet in the garden of England for the next day. I went home; at least I still had that for a few more days and raided my still well stocked drinks cabinet. A whole bottle of Tequila and a half-bottle of Vodka later and I was in state of oblivion. The last thing I remember thinking was, 'At least the painting is paid for.'The next morning, I struggled back into the land of the wide-awake and staggered. More

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