"Since I had a few inches and a stone or two on the foul-mouthed man with the musket, I did not take him too seriously."Looking for work," I said."Go ...round back then," said the other guard without looking at me."Thanks," I said and walked down the fenceline, past some hedges and to the summer kitchen. A well-dressed black man was working on some boots when I arrived, and a large black woman was cleaning carrots and sitting beside him."Hiring?" I asked the man."What can you do?" he said in a. I do know that I have always had a fascination with female domination. Not her in black leather, me in a dress kind, just completely relinquishing control to a woman. Having absolutely no choice in what was going to happen. Maybe I need that because of my job. Maybe I have some deep-seated issue from my childhood. Maybe I’m just a fuckin’ pervert! However, the need to submit has shadowed me for years. Donna and I have played with it on several occasions, but always for individual sessions. We. My photo in the paper was sufficient to prompt several relatives to come forward and own up that I was one of their clan and the arrangements were made without my consent because my eyes had a certain blankness that preempted any discussion.You can call me Honey, but my real name is Patricia Westminster and for most of my adult life I was addressed as “Lady Patricia” by friends and strangers alike. I always felt a little foolish being called “Lady” because a lot of the time my thoughts about. I look up at him and know that I am in for the night of my life. He strokes his cock as he looks me up and down, and I have no idea what he’s going to do first. Eventually, he unzips my boots, slides them off, and starts working is way up to my shorts. The college kid comes around a bit, and asks what the fuck is going on. I know better than to say anything, and my husband yells for him to shut the fuck up. Before I know it my shorts are off, and my juicy cunt is exposed for my husband and this.