"Angela, I am going to give you a spanking you will never forget. Then I am going to introduce you to that special room you saw at home. It is for bad...little girls like you princess. Cry all you want princess, it will only prolong how long I leave you in there." All I can do the whole trip home is cry. We arrive at home. My crying only gets worse. Bill pulls straight into the two-car garage and get out and then disappears in the house for about an hour so. All I know is that I fell asleep. But instead of looking at Facebook or texting friends, I was just stood, gazing into space. I remember seeing a girl across the road from me. Nobody was around here: it was the edge of the city centre, and a main route for traffic heading out to the suburbs, and other than passing traffic and a few people at bus stops, there was nobody here.Just the girl.She was maybe 25 or 30, with mousy-brown hair pulled up on top of her head, and tresses tumbling past her ears. She was wearing a mid-length. She had a dashing figure of 34, 22, and 34 with long legs and looked no less than a model, showcasing the dresses as she walked gracefully wearing the salwar qameez with dopatta hanging on herOne shoulder and not being used as a head covering and this actually advertised her youthful breasts for anyone who cared to look. Not telling a lie here and I admit and I would draw a picture with my imaginations, how pretty her Phuddi would be devoid of any hair and the tiny lips with a distinct crack. "Very diplomatic answer!" said Gill."Listen and this is to all three of you. "Women's breasts are as individual as the women themselves, all that really matters is that you're happy with your own!" "As a man, I think the size is unimportant, so long as the nipple is sensitive to the touch and the woman enjoys what you're doing to them!" I added.Gill now topless reached for my hand and said "feel my nipple, all this talk has already started making me horny" She took my hand and pressed it to her.