After his shower, he again threw me over his shoulder and carried me downstairs. I yelped as he attached my nipple clamps, the sharp, aching pain goin... straight to my messy cunt, then he started cooking breakfast. That was the irony of our Saturdays, I was the slave, but he had to do all the work. There was not much I could do tied up. It smelled like eggs and bacon, and my mouth salivated as I knelt beside him on the kitchen floor. That smells good, Master, I purred. He smiled down at me and. “On the house,” she said and her smile hit the spot. Now we had both established our emotional base-camp and there was no need for us to climb further at this moment, but we both knew we would. So I said goodbye, clumsily, and Justyna came out from behind the bar and we kissed in proper Dutch style, three kisses on the cheek and she either cupped a boob or she didn’t and I merely imagined it. Red of face and more than a little moist, I headed off to find the Museum for Photography. Across three. More

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