His fathers old cashmere topcoat didn’t quite go with the ensemble, nor did the fedora by the door.With the battered face, broken nose, and the scar..., he didn’t look jolly. He was a nice guy, he thought, but god help people who awoke his temper. He could be endlessly generous, or a towering inferno of rage. He had a sense of humor, but it was dry and a bit sarcastic. His sun-bleached blonde hair was a bit long for the current fashion, but he didn’t particularly care about current fashion. His. The father of the bride John Thorn wasn't really jumping for joy that his little girl was about to become a bride. The man that she was about to marry was only half the problem. The other half was a bit more complex. He had enjoyed six years with her. She had become everything to him. Gail Thorn was so much more then a daughter to John, she was the love of his life. And the thought of sharing her with another man nearly drove him insane. They rode in silence, both knowing what the other wanted. She'd been sent an email two weeks ago, saying how and where to pick it up, and that they'd discuss it on this date. He shouldn't have known where she lived- she'd never told him- and yet he still managed to send it to her home town. She, however, did not question this. He was her master, and she trusted him. All she wanted to know was what, exactly, was in the box. The idea had distracted her since she'd gotten it- if it hadn't been summer, she knew that it would have cut into her. All the while they looked at me and the camera with combinations of hate, fear, humiliation, disgust and pain on their faces. When I looked at the timer on the camera I saw they had been sucking for about 47 minutes. I decided that it was time to humiliate them a little more. I pulled Danielle from my cock and stood up from the couch. I explained them what they would have to do next: “Well slaves, I must say I’m a little disappointed. It took you 50 minutes to get me to the point of orgasm..