Fuck, I have to remember to call him Master Jim.20 minutes later they walked through the door. They look very, unhappy.“Mom what’s wrong.”“I�...m so sorry Marcy. The bidding is over, and, and the Russian won.”I just stood there looking at mom. I was in shock. The guy who wants to torture me, do lots of painful stuff to me, won! With out knowing it, I started to play with my self.Mom then said; “Marcy what are you doing?”I looked down, I had two fingers rubbing my clit. I quickly pulled my hand. There's a narrow window just to the left of the door, but his view is mostly obscured by a rather tall vase with what he assumes are artificial flowers on the inside. There's another window further down the porch, and underneath it a rectangular planter with more flowers, although unlike the ones in the window in front of him, these appear somewhat bedraggled and partially chewed.After several seconds, Gavin considers ringing the doorbell again, and is just about to do so when the door in front. It’s almost painful, but not quite. You balance that edge of pain and pleasure so beautifully. I reward your efforts by screaming your name. As I gulp in air, you lean back and slide me down the wall. I’m deep in the effects of afterglow, so I’m soft and pliable in your hands. You cradle me in your arms for a minute and kiss me. I taste my juices on your tongue and this sends another small shiver through my body. The water is still warm and our bodies are heated up from the foreplay. You smile. For those women who believe that a man's cock size is reflected in his shoe size, and for those men who believe that a woman's sexual appetite is reflected in the ratio of her bust size to her hip size, Tom and Liz played central roles in hundreds of masturbation fantasies every night. Such fantasies were, understandably, common in the BDSM 'community'. Some dreamed of surrendering themselves to Tom's obvious power and dominance, and of being taken by him forcefully, perhaps even brutally..