It was a two-person operation….the owner – Matt – and his assistant….which would be me, if he hired me.I had dressed to impress, wearing a low...cut, wrap-around dress that came to about mid-thigh, and left very little to the imagination up top. I had married early, and even after two kids, I was an attractive 39 year-old brunette, with a knock-out body. My big, 36DD tits were clearly my defining feature, and this dress really set them off nicely. If Matt was a boob guy, I was getting the job.. The orgasm sounds wereprobably echoed in the room. After a while - maybe 3 or 4 orgasms later,she eased off, leaving me trying to regain my breath. She left my earsgoing and my cock still kept straining. She must have gone for a fewminutes. The next thing I knew was her body straddling mine again andsomething being pushed into my nose. She didn't speak, but I could feeltubes being pushed right up each nostril. They felt as if they weregoing off to the side and I realized she was making sure I. It was probably about a week or two later when I woke up one morning after having a vague dream about Sam and her best friend Noreen, who now lived across the country. It was clearly a sex dream of some kind, but I couldn't really remember. But when Sam asked how my night was, I said, "Good. Had a little dream about you and Noreen..." And she sort of arched her eyes and said, "Really? What was it?" "Tell you later tonight," I said. She could have shrugged it off or just laughed, but she said,. I give no explanations or justification for what mylife has become. My journals relate what was done to me over ten weeks of mytraining as a slave to Sir, my master. I was instructed to keep a hand writtenrecord of my training and to include the feelings and emotions that my ordealsaroused in me. I hated writing about what I was enduring at first but as theweeks passed my time with pen and paper became a solace to me. Recently, I decided to publish my journals. I am not a writer and when Iset.