A treat, in no way different than a bath, or buying themselves new perfume. They sought relief their husbands, nor their slaves, ever provided. They w...nted to try something new, possibly because another friend recommended it, or they heard lurid rumors from their chamber slave that women enjoyed pleasures beyond their imaginations when touched by a woman. The Day House clientèle had no problem keeping its existence secret from their husbands. Ibis never worked in the Day House. It was a. Her ex-husband was right, man. It was the best blow-job I'd ever had, too. Mary Jo knew every trick to make my cock sit up and beg for more, licking the shaft, tickling my balls. I thought for sure I was gonna shoot at least twice, but each time she seemed to sense what was happening and she squeezed me and held it in.Lucky thing my face was toward the back of the couch, so they couldn't see me scrunch my eyes up as I tried to keep from moving. It was almost impossible with Mary Jo's Hoover. We’ll go through a rail tank car of each of the chemicals every week.”“Sounds good. Stay on it. It’s your company.”“Hang on, what?”“Yeah, I feel bad because our plans didn’t work out, with you getting rich off of being the devious person. So, while I still own the patent and I’m putting the money into getting the chemical plant up and running, you’re in charge of everything else. We’ll make sure you have money for advertising. If I’m still thinking right, you’ll have twenty bucks worth of. What set that day apart was not the five minutes of ass rubbing. It was the fact that I was so wound up that I screwed up again later in the day. It wasn ’ t even noon yet when I dropped the vacuum cleaner bag that I was changing and sent a cloud of dust over half Brenda ’ s office. I ’ d never been punished twice in one day before. Normally, Brenda isn ’ t really mad at me when I screw up. It ’ s a ritual. One that we ’ ve successfully used to.