" Fifteen years? You don't look old enough." Thank you." I smiled. That simple act was enough to substantially lower the tension in the room."Take a s...eat while I check," said Marie. "And you two, shoot him if he moves a wrong muscle." She pressed the intercom button again, "George, no more clients until I say so." Okay Miss."I sat down, and Marie disappeared back through the door she had emerged from. Both men were now training shotguns on me. Crude but effective.It was nearly twenty minutes. My husband had an early surgery to perform in the morning and had gone to bed an hour ago. I was nursing a nice Pinot Noir now, having switched from the rum punch that had been a tasty change from my typical KetelOne on the rocks. I needed nothing more to drink but hell, it was the holiday season and I had months before I needed to start thinking about putting on a bikini again. I watched the last of the logs burn out across the room in the fireplace. I could see moonlight illuminating. I am Sylvia a forty-five year old widow after my much older husband died three years ago. My parents were Danish so I have inherited their tall, slim bearing and my mother’s good looks. My girlfriends tell me I still have a very good body, smooth skin, an hour glass figure and I modestly agree. When some of my girlfriends regaled me with stories of their sex lives I realised I have a lot of catching up to do and have missed out on lots of sexual excitement.“I want to extend my sexual boundaries. What if I don't please her? What if she gets bored of me? I knock on her door and wait. After a couple of minutes, I get impatient and knock again. This time, she answered.'Slave, don't you dare knock more than once. Do I really have to punish you already?' She sighed and said 'Get on all fours and follow me...NOW' Without saying a word, I obediently follow her into her living room, wondering what she is thinking.'Kneel in front of the chair over there slut' I do as I'm told and wait for her.