In a deep husky voice she calls out."Fuck me Mark, fuck me here, now, against that tree. Fuck me. Stick your cock up me hard. Come on fuck my cunt, sh...g your dirty slutty bitch. Stick your shaft up my fuck hole from behind."She spins around and bends over grabbing the tree for support. I drop my shorts and, grabbing her hips, slam my cock up her hot, creamy cunt making her gasp. It's pure a****l lust as I thrust my cock up her and shag hard, my hips banging against her arse, my balls slapping. Perhaps it had come torest under the desk or credenza, or skittered across the floor to a darkcorner. Whatever the answer, I would just have to do without - andwonder what went on in that session. The next session, and those that followed, brought my heart into mythroat. Joanna had begun to change 'Bobby' under hypnosis, reinforcingmy subconscious desire to dress and act feminine with a series of post-hypnotic suggestions. First came the desire to wear lingerie. Body hairhad never been an. I was about to find out first-hand what that impact would be for me. After paying my fine, leaving my checkbook with the grand balance of $5.08, I walked down the brightly lit hallway to the room where I was to receive my corporal punishment. “Please Knock Before Entering” read the large-boldface sign on the wooden door. I knocked lightly on the door, my nerves already taking control of me. “Come in,” a male voice said. Gingerly, I opened the door to see a man I knew all too well, Detective. The first was an antique leather-bound journal with a worn strap holding its covers shut, the second was a heavy envelope with my name, Melissa Gordon, written on it in neat (if old-fashioned) cursive hand. The letter inside was typed on expensive heavy-weight paper that had the company watermark in the center of the page. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the accompanying diary to the nearest living heir of the doner..