Taboo.“Bonsoir, mademoiselle,” said a well-groomed gentleman, bowing as I entered. He was in his late forties, with a neatly trimmed mustache and ...hairstyle.“Bonsoir, Alain,” I replied, striding past him to survey the turnout. Sunday night was usually a mixed bag for other places, but we always did well. “How are we looking for this evening?”“Excellent, as always, mademoiselle.” The Frenchman maintained an eloquent expression, but the proud glint in his eye never escaped me. Alain had been with. In hind sight, I didn’t understand much of anything. I don’t feel much like a holy man and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act,” the Imam answered. There were times when he wanted to slap around some of the young hot heads who wanted to control the world through false religious words and real bullets. What made it worse was that he had been one of those hot heads at one time.“Do you regret being called to serve?” the Reverend asked.“Not at all. The Koran tells us that we are to serve Allah.. After I had received 10 new red streaks on my ass I thanked him for setting me straight and I was allowed to sit beside him in the car, still without my skirt. I was allowed to pull it on just before I got out of the car as we pulled into our driveway. Once inside the house I begged him to allow me to suck his cock. I sucked it like an a****l, I was so hot from the treatment that I had received outside the mall. Master is so great, he allowed me to masturbate myself to orgasm as I lay at his. He rubbed my abs slowly as he pressed himself harder against me. I couldn’t hold back the moans any longer. My eyes slid open and I pressed back against his hardened member. My father’s voice groaned in response as I locked my fingers with his. Slowly, he lowered his lips to my ear. Nothing was said as he panted heavily, losing himself in the friction of his boxers. “Daddy… I need you.” Begging felt so cliché but I couldn’t stop myself: not any longer. I could feel the ends of my father’s hair.