It was salt-stained and wringing wet all round the hem and it clung damply to her thighs like a shroud, but Mary-Ann was insisting that she get it off... "Why?" she repeated forlornly."You'll wear the shirt, m'lady. And the britches. Sal, get yer britches off, girl! The lady has need of 'em." Up at the other end of the boat, the serving wench was crying bitterly, but she tugged the britches down her skinny legs and handed them to Mary-Ann. The maid's face was ashamed as she handed them to. ." I stuttered. Then, my tears started anew and had nothing to do with the pain she had inflicted on me. "Mistress, I love you. I love our days together. But doing this every day, being your slave every day, is not me. I can't do that; this is just a respite for me. I don't think I'm ... I don't know ... I don't think I'm completely submissive; most days, I'm very dominant. I just need this one day a week to recharge myself.'"Even if I could, though ... I couldn't," I said dejectedly. "The. More

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