"Thanks" I whisper.He moves behind me. I can no longer see him. He waits for my signal. He will not start until I ask him to. The cruelty of this is i...ncredible. For every phase of my torture, for every area of my body that is to be whipped, I must ask for it; to make me a willing accomplice, no, an instigator, of the torture that will fall upon me. I can barely speak, but I must; otherwise I may hang here until the morning. I gather whatever willpower I can muster."Please whip my back" I hear. .it was betfer place! I feel my self very very dirty!Shs was little drunk and we use dufferent dress,now she looks like a virgine,she got vintage hair dress eith big white bow-knot (from party shop). She v got calored plastic wrist watch, weared white bra, white underhoses and whjte hoses, white shueses, but no more dress. She just sat and wait like a picture in gkance magazine " before wedding think about underwear first!"But practi allly this place was used for fucking before, there are. Even laying on her back her breasts stood proudly. Her nipples were partly aroused, and I studied their tight flesh. They had the cutest little dimples in their tips. I wanted to suck them, badly, but if I started that I didn’t think I could have resisted fucking her right away, and I’d never get her into the bath, which I was looking forward to. I decided to save most of playing with her nipples for later, but I did run my fingers over them. She gasped and grabbed my hands—her nipples were. Since Frank Leigh was still looking down, he had a perfect view of Ms. McMorning’s sodden genitals. Fair enough, he thought, that’s some good surgeon she has.She writhed her hips teasingly over him, throwing her arms up and out, and her breasts stayed in exactly the same place on her chest. I wonder how much of that is really her, he mused. And he wondered if he could get away with writing a poem about the beauty of complete fakeness that would get people off. Of course he could. He was Frank.