In many of these stories, the cross-dressedsubmissive is demeaned with gross exaggerations of what manywould wish for themselves, were it not so 'over...the top'. Thinking about this, I have developed the theory that another keyreason for this backlash is that such stories, as fantasies,divorce themselves from the true dynamic of a Real Life, BDSM,D/s relationship. You don't see the 'loving' part of Loving D/sin these stories. You don't hear the careful, often very detailedpre-scene negotiations. ” Looking at Lily’s brutal rape with horror, Shirley acceded to my demands, and I told her two disappointed guards to remove her trousers, panties, shoes and socks, and to uncuff her.“All right, slut, on your hands and knees, and crawl to me, your Emperor and Master,” I commanded. Shirley clearly hated that command, but she complied, making quite a display as she crawled to me, her face hot with humiliation. When she got to me, I reached out and slapped her ass, then told her to lick my. In those days, service was truly dreadful and the quality of food and drink had dropped even further. Now, with so many deportees returning to England and being provided housing and jobs by a chastised coalition government still struggling to qualify for renewed membership in the Northern European Union, the bars and restaurants were once again properly resourced. Not that Mark and Molly were now able to enjoy the benefits.Mark was a marketing officer for Tata Benz where he had the unenviable. "Christ!" I groaned.Eddie had obviously belted me during my outburst and knocked me out. I raised myself off my bunk and looked in the mirror. No visible damage done; just a bump on the back of my head. Eddie was too smart to mark his latest money-spinner.I noticed my cell door was closed and on further inspection locked. Then I noticed a suit-bag hanging on the end of the double-bunk. On the disused top-bunk was a pair of black high-heeled open toe sandals, a makeup case, a pair of expensive.