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Article 84 of 171
Subject: Kathryn and Sara - f/f, b/d.
From: xyz@abc.com (Jym)
Date: 1996/07/12
Message-Id: <31e5a8e5.24033158@news.sprynet.com>
Organization: None
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Here's the standard disclaimer - if you are under 18 or if it is 21
where you live or if it is illegal for you to read this then don't -
Go away. If you are offended by explicit sex, B/d, lesbianism (or any
other -ism) then go away. Otherwise, enjoy.
Comments to gj@sprynet.com
Claire - hope you enjoy this.
My name is Kathryn Lassiter and I'm thirty-four years old. I'm a
successful attorney, a partner in a solid mid-sized law firm located
in a wealthy town in New England. I'm a tall, athletic woman with
light brown hair, hazel/green eyes, and a nice figure. I'm not
beautiful, but I am attractive, especially in the summer when I have a
nice tan and my hair has blonde streaks from the sun. My legs are my
best feature - long and sleek and shapely.
My life was turned upside down a year ago when my husband and two
children were killed in an automobile accident. I was devastated. My
life was over as far as I was concerned. I got through the funeral
and all rest on a kind of automatic pilot - I was there, and
interacted with people, but it wasn't really me. Afterward, when it
was all over, and I was alone at last, I broke down.
I mean I really broke down. Not a classic nervous breakdown. I
just stopped. Stopped caring, stopped doing, stopped living. I
drank. A lot. I still went to the office everyday but I didn't get
much done. My partners were tolerant at first but their tolerance
didn't last that long. They warned me that I'd have to snap out of my
funk and start pulling my weight, but I didn't pay any attention.
Then I got a second warning - my secretary, who'd been with me for
years, was taken away and replaced with a young woman from the
secretarial pool. Sara had just turned 25 at the time and was
considered a misfit by everyone at the firm - she was small and slim,
her hair was cropped extemely short and had a purple streak in it, and
she was obviously gay. The fact that she was an excellent legal
secretary with a college degree and was going to law school had
nothing to do with everyone's opinion of her. She was different, an
in-your-face lesbian activist and the partners, myself included when
I'd cared, wanted her out.
She came to work for me on a Wednesday and by Friday she was
obviously disgusted with me. When I left the office early she was
sitting at her desk and didn't even look up when I walked past. She
must have swung into action as soon as I was gone and she must have
done some real wheeling and dealing.
I didn't know anything about it until later that evening when she
showed up at my front door. I was working on my third martini and
feeling no pain. I was astonished to see her and demanded to know
what she wanted. She pushed past me and told me to close the door.
"We have to talk. Now. And decide our futures."
We stood there in the hall, facing each other at fairly close
range. I asked her what she meant by 'our futures' and she made a
face. "Haven't you figured it out yet? They put me with you because
they want to get rid of both of us. They couldn't dump me while I was
in the pool, but now that I'm working for you they can let me go when
they dump your ass. I won't be needed anymore. It's the perfect
solution."
She was right. I should have seen it right away, but I hadn't been
thinking about much except drinking. "What do you plan to do about
it? I think they can do pretty much what they want, all things
considered." Normally I would have been the one to make the plans,
but.....
Sara grinned. "I know a few things and I have a friend or two down
there. I did some talking this afternoon and made a deal with them.
I get until the day after Labor Day, just over six weeks, to get you
back into shape. If I do, we both have a job. If I don't, I agreed
that we'd both go quietly."
I stared at her in shock. "What gave you the right...." Then I
stopped. She was fighing for her job too and had every right to make
the best deal she could. I started again. "So, what are you going to
do?"
"It's what we're going to do, you're in this too. I'm moving in
with you for the duration and get you back into shape. Any
objections?" She leaned back against the wall with her arms folded
across her chest and waited for me to speak.
I hesitated for a moment, trying to marshall my thoughts. My
thinking was three-martini fuzzy. "I think you should leave and leave
me alone." Lame, but the best I could come up with at the moment.
She shook her head. "No, I'm not leaving. And you're going to do
exactly what I say." As she spoke, she straightened up and her hand
flicked out and she slapped me across the face, hard. I reeled back
against the wall and rubbed my cheek. "Any questions," she demanded?
Before I could speak she slapped me again. Very hard. "No? Good.
Now lets get my stuff out of the car."
She ushered me outside and we got her things from her car. Two
suitcases, a backpack, and several boxes of books. We took them
upstairs and put them in the guest bedroom. Then she made me give her
a complete tour of the house and grounds. My husband and I had
purchased the house with money inherited from my grandmother. It's a
big colonial (12 rooms) set on 3.5 acres land in a secluded suburban
location. No houses closer that 200 yards and none within view or
with a view onto our property.
We did a lot of work on the place when we first bought it - had a
pool put in with a combination pool-house and gym next to it. Did
some extensive landscaping, but left almost 3/4 of an acre, down it
the back, covered with trees and bushes. The front and side yards
were landscaped and planted extensively (and expensively).
Sara was impressed even though I had let things go - the pool was
dirty, the yard was overgrown and there was a lot of work to be done.
When we got back inside Sara poured me a drink and said, "Enjoy it.
This is your last one. Tomorrow we start working your ass back into
shape." I downed the drink eagerly and reached for the bottle. She
backhanded me across the face and snarled, "That was your last drink.
Now go to bed."
I stumbled upstairs and fell asleep immediately. She dragged me
out of bed at 5:30 the next morning. Literally dragged me out of bed
and made me take a cold shower. Then she made me get into my sweats
and run with her. We only managed a half-mile, but she felt it was a
start. Back at the house we had breakfast (coffee only for me) and
then both took showers and got dressed.
We spent the morning making the rounds, buying things that Sara
felt were needed. A stop at the hardware store resulted in the
purchase of 50' of heavy chain, several padlocks, a couple of heavy
brush knives, and some other tools. Then we stopped at a beauty
parlor owned by a friend of Sara's. We got there early, before it
opened, so there was nobody to witness Sara slapping me into
submission so that her friend could crop my hair until it was no
longer than 1/2" anywhere on my head. It completely changed the way I
looked. She also had me waxed - a painful process that left me smooth
and bare below the waist.
When we arrived back at the house, Sara went into the bathroom and
I stared into the hall mirror for five minutes, unable to believe how
different I looked with my hair cropped. Then Sara appeared and
dragged me upstairs to my bedroom. She told me that we were going to
get started and I had better do as I was told. Then she told me to
take my clothes off. I refused. She backhanded me across the face
and then pinned me against the wall. "Listen, bitch, and listen good!
I'm a tough dyke and I'm into heavy S/m - I don't mind hurting you.
Do as you're told or I will. Understand?"
I nodded and she stepped back. I took a deep breath and then
removed my clothes. After I started to unbutton my top, she turned
and went over to my closet. She rummaged around and came out with a
pair of work boots that I hadn't worn in months. Then she found a
pair of cotton socks in my dresser. When I finished undressing, she
tossed the socks to me and told me to put them on. She informed me
that the socks and workboots were the only garments I was allowed to
wear. Then she hesitated and said, "You need a sweatband, find
something to put around your forehead to keep the sweat out of your
eyes." I found an old red bandana that my husband had used for the
same purpose and put it on.
Then we started working. First we stripped the bed and got all the
towels and made a big pile of laundry. I took the first load down
while Sara cleaned the master bath. Then I went back and helped her.
We spent the rest of the morning cleaning the upstairs. It wasn't
that big a job because I had just been using the master bedroom and
bathroom. It was mostly a matter of dusting and vacuuming.
Then we had lunch. I had to fix it and serve it out on the back
patio. When I went to sit down Sara shook her head and said, "No."
Then I got my next lesson. I was a non-person, not allowed to sit at
the table with her. She made me take my lunch and sit on the steps to
eat. After lunch we cleaned the downstairs. That took the entire
afternoon and left me exhausted. Whenever I faltered Sara drove me
back to work with a slap. After the second incident she went upstairs
and returning with a little leather quirt hanging from her belt. I
took that across the ass a couple of times and it hurt. I worked
hard.
I had to cook and serve supper, again on the patio. Then Sara went
upstairs while I did the dishes. When she returned she brought the
chain, the locks, a slim metal collar and some heavy eyebolts. Then
she went down to the cellar and returned with my husband's cordless
drill. She drilled a hole high in the wall at one back corner of the
pool house and screwed one of the eyebolts in, using a screwdriver
slipped through the eye for leverage. Then she attached one end of
the chain, locking it with on the the padlocks.
When that was done she came over and handed me the metal collar.
She told me to put it on and slapped me when I refused. I was tired
of being slapped and lunged for her. That was a big mistake. She
punched me in the belly and used the quirt on me as I knelt on the
grass, holding my belly and gasping for breath. I screamed and begged
her to stop. She did, but not until I had taken five or six hard cuts
across my back. I put the collar on and she secured it with another
of the padlocks. Finally, the chain was locked to a ring set in the
back of the collar.
Fifty feet of chair allowed me to move around a sizeable area of
the yard near the pool. It also allowed me to come around to the
front of the poolhouse and get inside. But only just a few feet
inside. Sara informed me that I would spend my nights chained in the
yard until I was a person again. I protested. "What about a bed?
What about a toilet? This is inhuman! You can't do this to me!"
She grinned. "I can and I am. You can sleep on the bare floor in
the poolhouse. Any more out of you and I'll shorten the chain so you
have to stay outside all night. And I'll get you a bucket to use when
you have to go to the bathroom. Any questions?" I started to open my
mouth and she lashed out with the quirt, catching me across the hip.
I screamed in pain and she grinned. "Good, if there are no question
then I'm going in." And she did.
I spent a cold, miserable night huddled on the floor of the
poolhouse. The next morning I was outside early, waiting for Sara to
come and release me. She came out about six a.m. with a cup of coffee
in one hand and a slice of toast in the other. She nodded to me and
sat down of the steps. "Aren't you going to release me," I asked?
"Yes, later, after I've showered and gotten dressed." She
continued to sip her coffee and take bites of toast.
"Well, how about me? Don't I get any coffee?"
She glanced at me and said, "Beg. On your knees."
"Never!"
She grinned. "Suit yourself. It's no skin off my nose. When I'm
finished we'll get to work on the pool."
I held out for a couple of minutes. The I moved as close to the
steps as I could and dropped to my knees. "Please, may I have a cup
of coffee? Please!"
Sara stood up. "That's better. I'll be back in a moment." She
returned a couple of minutes later with a cup of coffee and a slice of
buttered toast. She handed them to me and the returned to sit on the
steps. I took a sip of coffee and nothing had ever tasted so
wonderful! The toast disappeared quickly and I asked for another but
Sara shook her head. I had to be content with the coffee.
A few minutes later Sara put her cup down and pulled a set of keys
out of her pocket. She unlocked the chain from my collar and told me
to follow her. She walked into the house and paused just inside the
door while I stopped and removed my boots. Then, wearing just my
white cotton socks, I followed her upstairs to the master bathroom.
She allowed me to shower and brush my teeth. Then she sent me to
get a clean pair of socks. When I returned, she was just stepping
into the shower. I was surprised at how beautiful her slim, boyish
body was without closes. Sara's not beautiful, but she is attractive
and without clothes she looked very sexy. Her small round breasts
were tipped with little pink nipples. Her belly was flat and her
pubic area was smooth and bare. Her slim legs were very pretty,
especially her firm sleek thighs.
As she stepped into the shower she glanced back at me and smiled.
Then she snapped her fingers and said, "Kneel". I obeyed
instinctively and remained on my knees while she showered and dried
off. She told me to stay where I was when she left the bathroom to
get dressed. When she returned she was wearing jeans and a sleeveless
denim workshirt. She snapped her fingers and said, "Let's get going.
We've got lots to do today." As I followed her down the hall I
noticed that the leather quirt was hanging from her right wrist. I
shivered, remembering what it had felt like when she used it on me the
day before.
The last thing we'd done the night before was to open the drain on
the pool in anticipation of cleaning it in the morning. When we got
outside we found that most of the water had drained out, leaving a few
puddles of scummy water at the bottom of the pool. Cleaning the pool
involved the use of a harsh chemical cleaner and Sara decided to let
me put on some clothes. She came in with me because she decided a
sleeveless shirt wasn't good for her to wear. I put on a pair of
jeans and a long-sleeved denim jacket. Nothing else - no underwear,
no bra. Sara changed into a sweatshirt and we went back outside.
We worked liked dogs. Sara didn't let me slack off a bit and I was
exhausted by noontime. She worked just as hard, but I still resented
her when she drove me on with the quirt. After a short break for
lunch we went back to work and were ready to refill the pool by 5 p.m.
I did the final rinsing with the garden hose after removing everything
but the metal collar. When I was done and Sara had inspected it, we
started filling it again. Then we showered and had supper. After
supper I was chained in the yard again.
The pool was only half-filled by the next morning and Sara was
disappointed. I assured her that it would be filled by that night and
we could add the necessary chemicals and be swimming late the next
day. We spent the day working in the yard. Sara made me keep a good
coating of SPF15 suntan lotion on at all times. She spread it over my
back for me and I was surprised at how gentle she was. She wasn't
gentle when she thought I wasn't working hard enough and I felt the
quirt several times that day. And the next. And the day after that.
We worked hard with occasional breaks for a cooling swim. We both
swam nude.
By the end of the first week the yard was in good shape. I was
surprised to realize how much better I was feeling. On Friday night I
took a long look in the mirror and saw that my muscles were firming up
again and I looked fitter. The scales confirmed that I had lost eight
of the twenty-two pounds I'd put on while I was drinking. I had some
scratches and bruises and a few welts from the quirt, but I was also
tanned and looking better.
With the yard in good shape, Sara began working me in the gym. She
also made me swim countless laps in the pool. Some things were still
hard to handle. Sleeping in the pool house on the bare floor was one.
Peeing in front of Sara was still embarassing. That first night, when
she'd brought out the pail for me to use I'd been embarassed at the
thought of using it. But I did. She had me empty it each morning and
evening. But that first day we worked in the yard, when I had to pee
I started to walk back to use the pail. Sara shook her head when I
explained where I was going. "No, it's a waste of time. Squat and
pee here."
"You're joking, aren't you?" She wasn't. I squatted and looked up
at her with tears in my eyes. "Why are you humiliating me like this?"
She shrugged. "I'm going to tear you down and build you back up.
You have to lose your inhibitions and your bad habits before you can
heal." That first time was hard, but it got easier. I was still
embarassed, but I was getting used to it.
At the end of the second week I found I'd lost another ten pounds.
I was getting lean and fit. My muscle tone was back. I was very
nicely tanned. Sara rewarded me with dinner at a restaurant. I wore
a dress, thigh highs, and heels. Underwear and a bra. It was the
first time in ten days that I had worn a stitch of clothing. Dinner
was wonderful. We talked about law school, the firm and the various
partners, the work we'd been doing. Sara's plans for the future. A
lot of things. After we left, Sara drove to the beach and we bought
ice cream cones from a vendor and watched the moon on the water.
As we ate our ice cream and chatted, Sara glanced at me from time
to time. Finally, she asked me if something was wrong. I laughed and
said, "You'll think it's really stupid."
She shook her head and said, "No, I won't. Go ahead and tell me."
I felt myself blushing as I whispered, "It feels strange to be
wearing clothes. Uncomfortable."
She smiled and glanced around. It was after 10 p.m. and the beach
was deserted. The ice cream truck was long gone. "What do you want
to do?"
I hesitated. "May I take my clothes off?" She nodded and I
quickly stripped and tossed everything into the car. Then I sighed.
I felt better wearing nothing but the collar. Then I asked Sara about
what she'd said about being a dyke and being heavily in S/m.
She shrugged. "Not much to tell. I'm a dominant lesbian. I like
to enslave my lovers and dominate them completely. Break them and
retrain them the way I want them."
I shivered. "Are you going to break me? Enslave me?"
She stared at the water in silence and I thought she wasn't going
to answer. Finally she asked me if that's what I wanted.
It was my turn to hesitate. "I'm not sure. I hate the pain when
you use the quirt on me, but I get excited when I think about it
later. I'm wet now just talking about it." I blushed and she
chuckled.
She said it was time to go and we got into the car. As she started
it up she glanced over at me and said, "I'll think about it." She was
silent the entire way home. That night, as I huddled on the floor of
the poolhouse, she opened the door and tossed me a light blanket and
left without saying a word.
The next day, and every day for the next two weeks, we cleared
brush in the morning and worked out in the gym and pool in the heat of
the afternoon. We worked even if it rained. By the end of the fourth
week I was fitter than I had ever been. My weight was down to 127
pounds (I'm 5'10") and I looked great. Sara took my measurements -
35-26-34. I'd lost 2 inches off my waist, 2.5 off my hips, and an
inch from my bustline. Of course I was down from a c-cup to a b-cup
but that didn't bother me. My hair was shot through and through with
blonde streaks from being outside most of the time.
That night, after supper, Sara went upstairs and didn't come down
until long after I'd finished the dishes. I was waiting outside for
her, expecting her to lock the chain to my collar as usual. When she
came out, she took a key out of her pocket and unlocked the collar. I
was stunned and asked her what was going on.
"I'm leaving. You're ready to to back to work. You don't need me
anymore. I'm all packed. Please help me bring my stuff out to my
car." She turned away and walked back up the steps. I followed,
stunned and silent. We brought everything out to her car and I stood
there and watched her turn the car and drive down the driveway.
I should have been happy and I was - happy that I was off the booze
and back in shape, ready to go back to work. I wasn't sure how I felt
about Sara leaving. I went back in and locked the front door behind
me. I walked through the house - it was immaculate, Sara wouldn't
tolerate anything less. I rubbed my right buttock where she'd caught
me with the quirt not two hours previously. I had a good welt there,
but I'd deserved it. I was shocked to realize how accepting I was of
corporal punishment!
I walked out the back door and down the steps, glancing around at
all the work we'd done. I sat on the edge of the pool and dangled my
feet in the water. I was still nude and felt no desire to get
dressed. I sat there for quite a while and after a few minutes I
started to cry. I cried for several minutes - I wasn't sure why I was
crying, but I told myself it was relief that I was now free, but that
was a lie. I was crying because I felt so alone.
After I cried myself out I got up and went into the house. I
rummaged around and found a long lenght of rope in the cellar. I took
it back outside and found a good spot where there was a sturdy tree
limb at the right height. I fashioned a noose and tossed it over the
limb, tying the other end around the trunk of the tree. Then I went
and got a stool to stand on. I climbed up and placed the noose around
my neck.
I took a last look around and was about to step off when I heard a
scream, "Nooooooo!" I glanced around and saw Sara running across the
patio. She stopped in front of me and screamed, "Get that fuckin'
noose off you dumb bitch!" I obeyed and she grabbed my arm and pulled
me down off the stool. Then she undid the noose and tied my wrists
with the rope. I stood there while she untied the rope from the tree
trunk, pulled it until I was up on the tips of my toes, and then
retied it. She left me there and returned a few minutes later with
the quirt and a ball-gag.
As she forced the gag into my mouth she called me a stupid,
worthless cunt and told me that she was going to teach me a lesson.
She did. She beat me for almost an hour while I screamed into the
gag. She started at my shoulders, in back, and worked her way down to
my heels. Then she stepped around in front of me and worked her way
up my body. By the time she stopped I was drenched with sweat,
covered with welts and hanging limp, the pain in my wrists a minor
thing. She told me later that I barely twitched when she gave me the
last five across my tits.
When she took the gag out I was sobbing in agony. She lifted my
chin until we were staring into each other's eyes. "Have you learned
your lesson?"
I nodded. "Yes, please don't hurt me anymore. Please! I'll do
anything!"
She untied me and whipped me back to the pool. I stumbled along,
sobbing and begging for mercy. When we got to the pool, she forced me
to kneel and beg to be collared again. "This time it's permanent.
You're asking for lifetime slavery! Is that what you want?"
I stared up at her and whispered, "Yes, please. I want to be your
slave." I dropped down onto my belly and licked her feet in
submission. She let me do it for a couple of minutes and then ordered
me back onto my knees. She collared me and I cried with pleasure as
she locked it on. Then she spreadeagled me on the fence, my back to
the fence, and gagged me with a length of toweling. She told me that
it would muffle my screams, but still allow her to enjoy them. As a
further cover, she brought out a portable radio and turned it on.
Then she beat me while I screamed and begged for mercy.
After a couple of minutes she stopped beating me and fucked me with
the handle of the quirt. I didn't orgasm, but it felt good. She beat
me again and then masturbated me to orgasm. Then she beat me again
for a couple of minutes before getting down on her knees to lick my
pussy. I had never been eaten by a woman before and it was fantastic!
I orgasmed twice.
That's the way it went for a couple of hours. Short, hard beatings
followed by great sex. The following day was more of the same. We
stayed out at the pool most of the time. The day passed very slowly.
Sun, sex, swimming, and beatings. Then, that night, she spreadeagled
me on the fence and told me that she was going to break me. She did.
In twenty savage minutes using a pair of pliers and some straight
pins. She turned the radio up and I screamed my guts out as she
tortured me, putting needles through my nipples, labia and clit. She
knew I was broken when I begged her to let me be her toilet. She
pissed in my mouth and I swallowed every drop. I was enslaved.
That night I slept in a bed for the first time in almost five
weeks. She put on a strap-on dildo and fucked my brains out! It was
fantastic! I screamed with pleasure when she put me on my belly and
fucked me in the ass! I had never allowed my husband to do that and I
was shocked at how much I enjoyed it. The next few days passed in a
haze of sun, sex, and exercise. We worked at clearing the back part
of the property, swam, fucked, and I learned how to please her with my
tongue, my fingers, and a strap-on dildo. I learned how to respond to
the most subtle gestures and unspoken commands. I learned to be a
nude lez sex slave. I learned to love it.
On Saturday, with one full week ahead of us, we were content. She
took me downtown and had my hair cropped short and had me waxed again.
I was wearing a white cotton tank top and a very short denim skirt.
No underwear, no hosiery, no bra. A pair of Dr. Scholls on my feet.
I felt comfortable stripping in front of her friend. We all chatted
while she was cutting my hair and waxing me. I was nude for the whole
thing and happy about it.
Then she took me to a jewelery store run by a young lesbian couple.
On the drive over she stroked my bare thighs and mentioned that she
was going to have me pierced. I shivered with fear and whispered,
"Where?"
She shrugged. "Nipples. Labia. Navel. Clit maybe. No place
visible. You have to work. I've heard that a tiny stainless steel
stud through the base of your clit will keep you in an almost constant
state of sexual arousal." She fell silent for a moment. "What do you
think, slave?"
"It scares me, mistress," I whispered, "But if it pleases you then
I am happy."
She looked over at me and grinned. "You learn so fast!"
As she talked with the women at the jewelry store I wandered around
and looked at everything. Then she snapped her fingers and I shed my
clothes without hesitation. The younger woman, a cute redhead, cupped
my tits and ran her thumbs over my nipples, causing them to harden
instantly. I glanced at Sara and blushed. She grinned. The redhead
pronounced my nipples perfect for piercing. Then I sat on a bench
with my legs spread while they examined my genitals with gloved hands,
chatting with Sara all the while. They decided to put a ring in my
clitoral hood, two rings in each labia, a stud in the base of my clit,
and a ring in each nipple.
They numbed my nipples with ice cubes and pierced them first. As
they worked, the redhead head continually assured me that I was doing
fine. I blushed when she glanced at Sara and asked, "Do you use her
asshole much?" Sara shook her head, "Not enough, but that will
change."
Then, in quick succession, they pierced my labia and clitoral hood
and inserted the selected gold rings. This time numbing me with an
injection of Novacaine. It turned out that the redhead was a doctor
and instead of being 23 or 24 as I had guessed, she was 32. The stud
in the base of my clit was last and then I was done. (Sara was right
- it keeps me aroused almost constantly, something I've had to learn
to deal with.) The rings in my labia each have a 3" gold chain
attached. The chains hang down and brush my thighs as I walk. A real
turn-on. Sara can hang little weights from them if she wishes. Or
heavy weights to punish me.
Our next stop was a tattoo artist - again a lesbian. The word
'slave' was tattoed on my lower belly, just above my slit. My pubic
hair will hide it if it is ever allowed to grow. Then we went home
and made love. And worked out. And worked on the back of the
property.
Finally the big day came. My return to work. I wore one of my
conservative gray power suits, a white silk blouse over a white silk
camisole, white stockings, and black pumps. I looked stunning. My
skirt was short, almost six inches above my knee, showing a lot of
firm, sleek thigh. Of course, the stockings were thigh highs, I wore
no panties, and no bra. I felt sexier than ever. Sara dressed up too
and looked very very nice.
I got a nice reception and the partners were happy that I was back.
With good reason - I had always been the one to bring in the clients -
the 'rainmaker' as it were. I got a great deal of pleasure
speculating about what they might think if they saw me nude - saw the
welts on my ass from the beating I'd received early that morning, or
saw the rings piercing my body. Of course, they were happy when I
told them that Sara would remain as my secretary, but less happy when
I told them that the firm would pay for her to finish law school and
furnish me with another assistant to help Sara.
They would have been stunned to see me bent over my desk after
lunch. Taking 10 strokes across my bare ass for being sarcastic to
Sara. I was back as an attorney but I was still a slave!
THE END?
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