You smile at me and invite me over motioning seductively with one of your fingers. Stepping out of my clothes I come up behind you my right hand reach...ng to stroke your pussy. I massage it with my palm and my fingers making you gasp. Slipping my fingers inside I begin to work them in and out at first, before I keep them curled inside keeping constant friction on your g-spot. I feel you cream my fingers and I lick them clean before taking my place behind you. I rub the head of my cock up and. Slowly, never taking my eyes off hers, I pull her arms behind her back, knotting the silk scarf around her wrists. ‘Don’t hurt me,’ she whispers, voice trembling with apprehension. ‘Please.’ ‘Oh no,’ I reply, breath tickling her ear with the softness of a feather, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Quite the last thing on my mind, really.’ A small whimper escapes her lips as I brush my lips over the outside of her ear, licking and nibbling at the lobe, my fingertips gliding over her shoulders to undo. Ingrid saw Ash thinking. She unsettled her by saying, “Let’s go Ash,” and took her arm and led her to the chest of drawers against the wall. Ash was so surprised when Ingrid took out the wooden backed hairbrush from the top drawer. How did she know it was there? Ash had purchased the hairbrush a few weeks before to replace the heavy plastic spoon and used it to spank herself but thought no one knew it existed, yet Ingrid went straight to it. How did Ingrid know to look there though, in just. What was troubling me, was the equipment that Messalina-70 had required, beyond my services: handcuffs, ropes, a whip, and other, dangerous, "tools". Marisa had been inflexible on one point in particular: I would have worn a rubber mask at all times... this, I really couldn't understand. I had been meeting many people for a while, without ever worrying about my identity; Marisa was sure that clients would have never admitted to knowing me. They were the ones who had lost the most anyway. The.
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