"How sweet." She reached into
the luggage and held up the riding whip.
"You remembered everything," he said helplessly.
"Have you?" She swished the whip, smiling. She didn't have to hit him.
"Please . . ." He sank to his knees, desperate to please her, to be
close to her. She took off her blouse and approached with the whip in
the air.
"Much better," she said, shrugging her shoulders forward and back.
"Don't touch, Oliver. Just look." She leaned over him. "You'd like me
to take off my bra, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," he said. "Mistress." His throat was dry.
"I love how you want me," she said. "Can I trust you to--control
yourself?"
"Yes, Mistress." She removed her bra slowly, watching him with
pleasure. He swallowed.
"You are the sweetest love," she said, laughing. She stripped the rest
of the way and guided him to the bed where he devoted himself to her
until she was wet and happy, incoherent, thankful . . . From a
distance, he heard her say, "Now you."
"Doesn't matter," he mumbled.
She rolled him over and snuggled his head into her lap. "I'm going to
give it to you for a change," she said. "Here." She leaned over and
placed a breast in his mouth.
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