Her top was a denim button down shirt. It was obviously too small. Her large round breasts and perky nipples pressed tightly against the smooth fabric... Her tight leather gloves ended at her elbows. She had a red silk bandanna tied around her neck. Her long hair was tied in a pony in two places. The only equipment she carried was a backpack and a walking stick. Many questions raced through my mind. What was she doing at this camp site? Not a soul knew I was here. The most awkward question hit. It was the intention that Slave Girls would live in fear of it being there time to play the ‘village whore’ the most inferior creature residing in Shamelock. The night would take place in the Village Pub ‘The Scarlett Buttock.’ Usually reserved for Masters, slaves would be permitted on these nights – in full uniform, adorning any punishment jewellery, and attached to their Masters by their leash, once having witnessed a public punishment most slave girls would strive at any length to avoid it. “Well?” said Jen, “you don’t need to be shy with me.”Like a rabbit in the headlights, Trish replied that she couldn’t possibly say, but that it was indeed one of those. As we often give oral pleasure to each other, I was able to deduce that my moment had come and that I was to take her anal cherry. My heart nearly leapt out of my ribcage as I processed this thought. I leant across and kissed Trish as Jen watched the two of us, suddenly oblivious to her presence.“I love crossing boundaries,” Jen. It got to the point that the third time, the words that slipped out were not even what she meant or wanted to say.She had asked him what would happen? He answer, want to find out was the single most tempting thing he could say. Before she knew it, she had done exactly what she was trying to talk herself out of doign! It was as if something had possesed her. Something had, her childish antics had gotten her. Her master left her here as punishment. The hall. There was nothing overly scary about.
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