I'd slept both nights with Felicity -- and she wanted a lot of comfort -- but then, the same could be said for Jerry and Patty. I'd not said anything ...much to Trinity -- or young Harrah, especially --about their situation. But I'd come home to three naked women after my briefings -- four, actually, since Susan, in a gesture of solidarity with her girlfriend, was going nude, the only difference for her being that she had a wristband instead of a collar. We went to dinner with the others and there. She was looking like a perfect sex slave submitting to her owner.I grabbed a marker pen from the bag. I rubbed the sweat off her sore tits. I wrote ‘Master’s slave’ over her tits. I wrote ‘Cum dump’ on her belly with an arrow pointing to her pussy. I then grabbed a couple of clamps from my bag, and I slapped her tits and pulled her nipples.I put those clamps on her nipples and tightened them over the nipples. She whimpered and screamed. I took those ropes off her. I pulled her drenched panties. It was Priscilla who had access through her clients to tickets for Covent Garden. That was how Harry came to know Beethoven’s ‘Fidelio’ and the soaring denouement of ‘O namenlose Freude’ which subsequently harmonised so well with a stiff cock and a rapid hand. But more significantly, it was exposure to classical ballet that sowed the seed of Harry’s next fixation. Sitting in the darkened stalls, occasionally squeezing Priscilla’s hand as a token promise of what awaited her back in bed, Harry. She wrinkled her nose at our dishevelled state, noting for the first time the evident marks of our union on our bodies and the bed. In the past, Liira had merely concealed the stains where our juices had flowed, marring the bed-sheets, along with the sticky, crusted mess that oozed from my mother's slit and coated her creamy thighs. "I need a shower." She regarded me for a moment; I resisted the urge to shrink under her intense gaze. "Well, no. We need a shower." She flounced to her en suite,.