I am trying to think of a way out and am trying to rebel in any subtle way, but that only upsets her. Her treatment of me is a combination of mockery... teasing, and harassment. When she jokes it is in a very mean way. While I am servicing her she will joke about how lucky I am that I don’t have look at bare asses in porno magazines because I have her warm real one to lick. Or she will tell me how she usually holds off going on a Sunday so that she can go first thing Monday morning. “It is. She was toast. Time to go get that drink, and let her get used to her various injuries... He headed upstairs without making any further comment.Once upstairs, he turned on his monitor in the kitchen. He had full coverage of his 'slave pens'; generally, he recorded everything, and in any case, surveillance was a big part of keeping a slave or other victim in line. This bitch (Dumbjohn forgot her name) definitely came under the heading of 'other victim' -- Dumbjohn couldn't imagine a white slaver. All through the hustle and bustle, I managed to find the supermarket and proceeded to get the items I listed earlier. The whole supermarket was a huge maze and I took my time on actually exploring the supermarket rather than buying the stuff I needed.At the checkout counter, I felt something weird and from the corner of my eyes, I saw the lady again. She was paying something on the next counter. In my head, I was in suspicion if she had been stalking or tracking me. Or it could just be a big. A blithering idiot with a stiff erection and a body that could last through countless hours of wonderful sex, he silently added. “Mmmmm,” he really wanted to get a close up of her body, a real close up. So silently, deliberately, he got up from his chair, and walked with a stride filled once again with confidence and determination to kneel beside her. Once there, he rested his chin on the armrest, looked up at her gleaming smile, and waited. The twinkling in her eyes matched his own as Zeba.