”“Thanks, ladies. You spent all day on that?”“Not at all. Sidra has been reading a textbook on English literature that Francis gave her to lea...rn. She was surprised to discover that Chaucer’s famous Canterbury Tales utilised a literary device popularised in The Decameron, a ribald work by the Italian author Boccaccio. She had never realised the extent of international literary cross-fertilisation. It seems that Chaucer was on a diplomatic mission to Italy in 1372, and possibly read Boccaccio. I hooked her waistband and slid those wonderful panties around her hips, over her knees and then off her entirely. She returned her legs to their previous position, hugging her knees while spreading her cunt as much as possible. I drove my face into her damp, engorged depths. I licked her from asshole to clit and back again, driving my tongue into her ass then her cunt and then swirling it around her clitoris before reversing the course and process. When she started to writhe, I sucked her. I spent hours with books on my head, learning how to walk gracefully. They taught me how to cook, knit and sew. I studied fashion magazines like they were text books. The 'hygiene' class was disgusting, but I did find it useful. I had an exercise class every day where we would do the 'bust cheer'; 'we must! we must! we must increase our bust!' You know the one. It must work. My bumps were like mosquito bites compared to the melons on these women. In my snug leotard the full extent of my. She tried to move about a little and to peer over her back to see what damage had been done to her skin. All she got was more pain for her trouble. Welts she could (ouch) feel on her shoulders and arse, but she couldn't see much. The woman in the next cage was obviously trying to tell her something, but didn't speak any English, so no real communication was possible.She spent a while working out how she got here and why. Her memory of the time in the two local guys' flat was hazy, especially.