When the workday ended, she attended Ian at dinner. The widowed housekeeper, Mrs. O’Leary, laid out their supper, then retreated for the night to he... servants’ cottage near the estate’s gated entrance. Irene’s suggestive wardrobe for dinner varied: sometimes silky formal ball gowns, other times skimpy low cut club dresses, occasionally tit and cunt baring corset and stocking sets, whatever Ian demanded or that she thought would amuse him. Whatever she wore, it was always accessorized by the. Calling out to my maker. No more, I didn’t want to go any further. Perhaps that is what he was waiting for, my exasperated plea. His cock swelled again, crossing the threshold of pain. I stammered, clenched, gasped, not in agony, but in euphoric shock. My body adjusted allowing me to enjoy this new found size. What usually lasted moments, was working its way into minutes. I had to wonder if it was really a precursor or just another adjustment for my benefit. No matter, I was at my limit and a. More

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