“Please master! I’m sorry, stop slapping my ass! I’ll do whatever you say, please!” Your hand stops, and my ass is burning. You grab my hair, ...ank my head back, and hiss into my ear. “That’s right bitch, I OWN you. You’re MY pet, and you will be punished if you don’t do what I say.” The only thing I can do is growl an acknowledgment of what you said, because I am in so much pain and my head is pulled back all the way. You let go, and tell me to keep my ass as open as possible. You start taking. She'd sat in shorts and t shirt that evening chatting, white plimsolls tapping as she crossed and uncrossed her legs. She was early twenties, waif slim with dirty blonde hair that she tied back tight in a ponytail. She had a freckled face with upturned nose, her lips not full but wide and sensuous. Her legs were long and trimmed with fine curvy hips, small boobs but a plump pear shaped arse. She spoke so chirpily, with a smile and sparkling eyes. No Dave I was fine with, it was his wife Stacey. More

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