She saw me fall down and rushed to lift me up. It was just a little pain and I was ok already. Then I went to my home. The next day I went to her home...and no one was there, as her kid went to school and her husband went to the office. I was just talking with her and she casually asked about the injury.Suddenly I thought of a plan and told her that it pains in my lower stomach and if she could have a look at it. She first hesitated to look at it and then agreed. I lifted my t-shirt and slightly. I couldsee that the lacy bits could be seen through my shirt. But then realisedthat this did not really matter. Anyone who noticed that I was wearing abra would already have seen the size of my tits. I slipped my jacket backon while Aunt Chloe paid the bill. Then she took me to another clothesshop where she selected a couple of blouses and some knitted tops. "Thesewill be more comfortable than your tight shirts," she said with a sweetsmile. We walked back home. It was definitely more. Shit, what could go wrong next?Joe wandered around some more, getting familiar with the layout of the town, though, by edict, it was not allowed to be called that. Only those places specifically chartered by the hierarchy could be called a town; otherwise, they were just unincorporated communities.The first thing Joe did when he got back to the tavern was to look up John Horn, the owner, and recommend that the shed under his room be torn down. John agreed to do it, but, first, he needed to find. "Were you not told of the protocol of the bedroom?" he asked."Yes, Master," said Ayda, realising her error."If I am not here, what should you do?" I should wait for my Master to arrive when it pleases him." And how do you address your husband?" As Master, at all times." So you have been told all this, and you freely agreed to marry me. Yet the first night you come charging into my bathroom using western endearments to me, such as were permitted to Mrs. the Honourable Diana Featherstone, but are.