"No" I said, "You got me, I'm yours, no explanations, no exceptions." She melted into my arms and pushed me back toward the couch. Her hands fumbled...with my belt and mine with the buttons of her silk blouse. My finger tips brushed the black lace of her bra, glimpses of which I had seen down her shirt while we walked. She loosened my trousers and pushed my suit jacket back over my shoulders leaving my arms constrained. The next push left me sitting on the couch and she proceeded to pull my. He was then en home, not to the grand house which was now Gloria's, but to the dingy terrace he had rented at an extortionate rate to her. He was made to take a mattress from one of the mean bedrooms, down to the dank basement where he was summarily thrashed by Gloria and Angela; their arousal as their cunts slithered in the clinging rubber outfits especially sweet in their moment of absolute victory. Whipped and whinging, his now useless cock vainly attempting an erection, the defeated cur was. “I’m Ok. I was just swimming,” I said, trying not to react to his current state of undress and arousal. “God, I saw you floating there; I thought you had fallen, hit your head, and were drowning,” he said. “No, I’m fine,” I said. He had dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes that took me in with a hungry look. I felt his member get stiff. Fuck it felt good. I looked around for my husband, but he was nowhere to be seen. My mind immediately went to some very unsavory thoughts. “My name is. You really ARE a sissy, aren’t you? I will be back in about four or five hours, and if you have done all your chores properly, I might reward you. I might let you taste me after I have had sex. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Reward your dicklet? Why should I? I’ll be all satisfied. Not that your dicklet could satisfy anyone anyway. Oh, you meant a hand job? Well – for you, it would only be a finger job. Like I said, two – maybe three fingers at most, because it’s so little. No. I don’t think.
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