"Beg." With one single word, he pushed down hard on her shoulders, making her fall to her knees at his feet. Claire's wavy brown hair covered her fac...e from his view as she bowed her head. She was surprised at his sudden rough side and began to wish she'd just 'fessed up to the head instead. "Please?" She squeaked. "Oh come on Claire. That's no way to beg. Now, try again. Put some meaning into it." She took a deep breath and tried again, "Please. Please, Mr Sunderland? Oh, please." He. The epaulet on his shoulder was gilt, not bullion, and the facings were modest too. His shoe buckles were shiny, but made of pinchbeck, and his stockings were fine cotton, not silk. He could not afford solid gold adornments on his everyday uniforms. His sense of priorities came to his help, and he shrugged inwardly. If the colonel took exception to his appearance, then so be it.There was a bell rope on the right side of the main entrance, and Anson pulled once. The soft sound of a small brass. I’ve never told anyone about this experience until now. I’m a twenty-two-year-old guy, born and bred in Washington, D.C.I’ve had this fantasy for a few years. It basically includes having a girl serve me sexually, and spanking her from time to time.Well, last April I was walking with Carol, a close friend with whom I’ve never had sex. We shared intimate secrets – including me telling her that I’d love to fuck her and her de-clining. Carol mentioned a movie (X-rated) that we passed in the. Then I was found on the street and wound up on the Yucatan at The Wilkerson Institute.” At that, she giggled.“What’s so funny about that?” Carol asked.“Jonathan Wilkerson is going to be beside himself, if he isn’t already,” she replied cryptically.Although she had no idea who Jonathan Wilkerson was, Carol made the connection between the Institute’s name and his own. “And why is he going to be beside himself?” she asked.Ann giggled and replied, “Because he’s being buried under money is why.”.