"Yes, that's it. You are a slave. Is that what you want to be?" he demanded.Mrs. Whitfield nodded her head, although her demeanor had not changed. I s...eculated she had no conscious idea she signaled him thusly."As you wish. If you insist on being a slave, then so it shall be, but you will not be a slave to your own fears and live alone like a hermit. You will be my slave, warming my soul and my bed."She flinched like she'd been slapped, even to raising her hand to her cheek as if it stung. We. Dinner is from room service. Appetizer, entrée, dessert, coffee ... As we progress the electricity between us builds. I almost expect to see sparks jump when our hands touch.I decide to shower and try to ease my excitement. In the bathroom I shed my clothes. My nipples have been hard so long they chafe against my black silky bra. My panties are soaked, and stick slightly as I push them down my legs. I stuff my clothes into a laundry sack. That chore done, I face the mirror, and smile at the. More

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