“I’ve never had a boy slave before; are you really a slave or is this just some game you’re playing with your cousins?” she asked.I didn’t k...ow what to answer. I wasn’t absolutely sure myself whether this was real or not; I went back and forth between wishing it were over or had never happened at all and wishing it would go on forever. I said, “I don’t really know Mistress Becky; I guess it’s whatever you want it to be.”She smiled and said, “good answer slave, now kiss my shoe,” and she shoved. . apart from the obvious remnant which painfully denied her that lust.One of those women, a haughty matriarch of about fifty years old and dressed in a short black shiny plastic raincoat, flared to display her broad fishnet clad thighs and black shiny knee length boots below it in freely emphasising the vigour of her dominant sexuality, stroked Lucy’s pert flanks with her crop as she was brought close. The matriarch sighed in obvious sexual arousal, on pursing her ruby red lips as she cupped. More

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