“John, I am a witch. One of the ones who was persecuted at Salem in 1692. I was one of the lucky ones who escaped.”“A witch!” I blurted out.�...Yes, a witch. Now please put aside any thoughts of hexes, black cats, and broomsticks. Most of us were nothing of the kind. We were young girls of easy virtue who had had sexual relations with the elders unbeknownst to their wives and the rest of the citizens. Rumors were spreading of our actions, and they decided to silence us. I was fortunate in that one. At least the day arrived….I booked a hotel room near charbagh station in lucknow…Around 9 pm, somebody knocked at my door…I was surprised to see a beautiful women wearing mask outside the door…I was also wearing batman’s mask…To my surprise,she was wearing a saree…I really doubted whether she is really a call girl or some one mocking at my desires…She had big boobs coming out of her blouse…Catwoman: abe ghoorte rahoge ya undar bhi boolauge…Me: ha ha jaroor….Aaiye…Kya lena pasand karengi? Thanda. Very proud. Sometimes I wish Mom would see me and be proud. Mizz Helen and Mister Charlie are proud of me. I'm proud of me. Dan's proud of me. I just wish Mom...It might be silly. After all, Mom just signed papers making Mizz Helen my guardian, gave me a hug, and left for Vegas with one of a long series of guys. It was months before I heard a peep from her. That's not a lot of 'motherly instinct' showing, there, and I really shouldn't get my hopes up. Still, Dan didn't know, but I did write Mom. Then I would put nipple clamps on her tits and make her follow me around the room completely naked, her sweet hairy pussy dripping juices on her carpet, and a bung plug up her ass. She would be wearing shackles on her lovely ankles, and her hands would be in cuffed and stretched out before her in a beseeching manner. My leash would be around her neck. I would tell her that she would only get fucked when she stopped cumming from her sweet, tempting pussy. This could go on for a long time. She.