Helena was less than happy at the prospect of a protracted stay in her cage but judicious application of a series of blows from one of my thinner cane..., coupled with the introduction of an anal plug locked into her, gained her compliance and I was able to leave her, content that she would behave in my absence.It was raining. I took my Baskerville – a heavy oilcloth coat, favoured by denizens of Dartmoor[1] –but I was still grateful when a Stanley taxi-cab hove into sight as I reached the end of. Her fingertips can still detect just a hint of moisture from Cara's earlier explosion of arousal. I can't believe this. What am I doing? I'm so weak. Stacy feels powerless to control her situation. Putting the underwear back is no longer an option. She wants to smell them, taste them. She wants to be surrounded and filled with Miss Cara's erotic passion. Stacy's crotch yearns for attention. The long day of monotonous paperwork, whilst constantly being teased and aroused has pushed her too far.. More

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