She had reduced him to a blubbering, sated man-child: weak and vulnerable. Drained. If he were Samson, she could have cut off his hair. Or if she were...the Bobitt broad, she could whack off any other of his appendages. His eyes were closed and his head lolled to one side. His breathing came in a ragged, slow tempo. Not asleep, just impotent and beaten. Reduced to whimpers. His breath returned to an even keel, and he lifted heavy eyelids. "That was awesome," he whispered, "the best I've ever had.. I will get my way; sooner or later I will get my way. “Walk me to my car Dan, please.” Greg resolved the dilemma with lawyerly skill. “Dan still doesn’t know that you fucked Portrait all the time he was painting you, does he?” “No, that is our secret for which I paid your price.” “Good, I will give everyone what they want, and you will say nothing but yes.” “Yes? Tell me how.” “You are the hostess, so you will move back home and be a proper hostess. I am your lover, so you will wear all of. More

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