It was a marriage of political import…that I looked forward to as a means of escape. Do not get me wrong readers, It was by no means a happy consent...from my side, It was just that a wife enjoyed a different kind of freedom, one that would never be allowed to a daughter. As is the fashion of a good writer ,I should indulge you with some details. I had been a source of constant worry to my esteemed household since the day I first learnt to speak. It was not the manner of speaking I assure you,. Kyle was also a hit with the lads, tall, olive complexion with a gym-toned physique. No doubt each of the guys were sizing up each other and wondering what might be under each of their shorts.We agreed to leave the pub around a half hour later as the guys had a drink or two under their belts. The last member to join us was Johnny – he was too shy to meet us in the pub so he met us in the street up the road from the pub. Being twenty-five, he was the youngest member of the group, Johnny was very. I lowered myself down completely now and stopped him from speaking. "Yes he will bitch, you get no say on that, he will be using this pussy any time he likes and in anyway he likes. Now I want you to use your tounge to taste me" I said.I felt Mike poke his tounge out and give my thong a tiny lick. "Oh what's up baby you not want this pussy now?" I asked as I let out another giggle. "Tough bitch, this is all I need you for so you best get licking!" I ordered as I readjusted myself and pulled my. She opened the cupboard she had been commanded to and she cringed with fear at what she saw: a pair of knee high leather boots; the bondage bra and a pair of latex stockings. She shivered in her already revealing uniform, wondering how she would ever get through this day. As slowly as she dared she removed the maid’s costume and put on her new uniform, tightening the bondage bra until her breasts formed globes sticking out from her chest. She realised that this was the uniform of a slave who is.