I sold them to her; not first editions, not a set--she just likes big solid books, I guess. And she reads romances by people like Joanna Trollope and ...ary Wesley and Katie Fforde, not that Harlequin crap.She also likes medieval French poetry. She even taught me to like it. Me! Reading poems in French that I can barely understand. What happened was, she smiled at me one day when she bought this old beat-up book she found in the foreign language section. I asked her if she could read it--dumb. Even though my brain was still foggy from the drugs, I knew what was coming.Sure enough I felt her insert something up my ass, it must have been well lubricated as it went in with little effort. Next she started to pull the front of the bodysuit aside, and she pulled out my now semi erect penis. With practiced hand she began to stroke me to full size. I tried to buck my hips to meet her touch, but there was a strap holding my hips down as well. I felt a warm lubricant being applied and then. She is going out with her friends tonight, leaving me impaled on the milking stool for at least five hours. Sometimes, she comes home in a good mood and lets me wank over her feet before I clean and massage them for her. Sometimes she is in a bad mood and leaves me here all night, or even worse, brings her girlfriends round to take turns milking me with a strap-on, their heels clicking around me as they laugh and take photographs.I hear the door close and sit in silence, a string of pre-cum. I sat back and listened while the two of them talked about colleges and the relative merits of the various degrees Ty is considering pursuing.They ignored me all the way to the hotel. They ignored my bare legs, my exposed panties, the way my nipples pressed against the thin fabric of my sexy dress. I knew they were doing it on purpose. That didn't make it any less annoying.The Regency sits on the waterfront, just across the river from the heart of downtown. It's a beautiful hotel. I've never.