I loved the feeling. A part of me was saying, bring out your knives and cut her to little pieces. Another part kept saying, no - enjoy the pain of con...trolling yourself. Enjoy playing with this cunt.I could feel the beads of sweat on my forehead as I stood up and walked towards her. I walked around her again and again. She was perfect in every detail. Her beautiful round ass. Her soft white skin. Her breasts standing straight up, and her nipples sticking straight out."Spread your legs," I. You are standing next to a wading pool squinting at the camera andwearing a cute little one-piece purple bathing suit. You look like youare about to get in the pool with a yellow rubber ducky. That was yourfavorite ducky, do you remember? Those pudgy bare legs of yours were socute weren't they? And your hair was wet and flat and you were stillsmiling, still looking happy. Your breasts were just little nubs ofthemselves then, but they would fill out later, Missy, into perky littlethings that. "I wish ye to be Captain Miranda, and so never to let those cock-stroking bastards know that they got me. Let the legend of Miranda and her Sapphic seafarers live forever!" she cried, and then a kind of racking overtook her, and in a moment, she was gone.I stood up, facing a doubtful if not indeed hostile crew, and knew that if I were not to take a knife in the back in the next few minutes, I must impress upon them that Miranda had been right in her choice."It is true that I am not experienced. We always assumed it was just regular bullying andeventually he would snap and do something about it, but he never did.He just took it regretfully but willingly, as she took control of hislife.I figured back then it could only go one of two ways, either it came toa head and he finally told someone what was going on to try and make itstop, or it would eventually reach a certain maximum of embarrassmentwhere she would have to quit. What really happened was neither ofthose. She started outfitting.