I called Tricia and asked her out about two months later. She was surprised to hear from me and said that she wanted me to come by the following week.... She said that she wanted to see if I was still willing to do "anything" to get it on with her. It then dawned on me that my ex-girlfriend obviously told her all about me and my fetishes for legs, feet, pantyhose, bondage, crossdressing, etc. She said that she would send instructions in the mail for me to follow, and if I followed them completely. "Should I stop?" No, don't," he croaked. He cleared his throat and said, "Do not stop whatever you're doing. Do not stop."A self satisfied grunt escaped her throat, pleased he was so aroused by her. Running her hands downward, she slipped them inside the thin silk. Carefully she alternated between her fingertip and lightly using her nails as she touched his firm abs, working her way to his hips. Robin pulled him closer so that his back pressed against her heavy breasts. Gyrating her dress. I could not feel that this thing between my legs was mine yet. I had tried to learn to like it. I had fingered it in the nighttime, rubbed it against the rounded corner of the bathroom sink, and ridden on a broom handle like a Halloween witch. I had even shaved it last Saturday, hoping to get some autoerotic charge. Nothing had worked. I still didn't like it. My down-there seemed more like an absence than an organ, let alone a sex organ. Three days a month, it was filthy, bloody, and smelly. My. He reshackled her legs to the posts.In addition to putting the usual brand of ownership on his slaves, he also preferred that their cunts stayed sore and bruised from usage. It was a sort of psychological brand for the slave. They would not be able to take a piss without it burning. They were not permitted to wear any panties, so their cunts were always open. Sometimes he would thrust his fingers in and out as he passed them on his estate. He moved to the fireplace and removed the branding.