’ he gave her a stern look pulled her dress further, shook his head and said: ‘no dress for my slave.’He saw her inner struggle of resistance an... obedience in her face, and just as resistance seemed to win the battle he asked: ‘whip slave or no dress?’‘No whip.’ her voice whispered almost breathless.‘No dress, no whip!’ he promised.‘Yes, Sir. No … dress.’ She lowered her eyes again and blushed.He let go of her to watch her slowly slide her torn garment of her shoulders and down over her hips. She could do nothing to stop it, her mouth was hanging open again, her eyes tight shut as she felt it penetrate deeper and deeper. Now my wife was lying on her back on top of Roy, her arse impaled on his cock, still wearing her dress, although it was crumpled in a ring around her waist, her stocking clad legs spread-eagled, her bare stiff-nippled tits rising and falling as she panted and gasped for breath.With her thighs held open and Roy's cock in her arse, her pussy lips were slightly parted,. More

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