Who cared about the blues anymore though. Not the record companies that was for sure. Not the gaga public drowning in hype and blondness. No tears tho...gh. No tears tonight. She applauded the band. A one person standing O. The guitar player smiled at her, the drummer gave her a flourish, and the singer, tired and probably drunker than she was waved and said goodnight to the empty room. The lights came up and they band started packing it up. She wondered if the bartender would give her back her. I was still on all fours, with the puppy tail butt plug up my bung hole. And Erik-Jan had a firm grip on the dog leash. "So here you are! And here you do play as slave?", Master André roared angry. I stood up and the puppy tail butt plug dropped out of my ass on the floor. The security guards of 'de Drie Gebroeders' rushed in, as did Carl and Dave. "This is a private party André", Carl called to Master André. "Leave or I'll call the police!", he said sternly. "Don't be a sissy. I just came to. More

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