Oh I needed this pain. My pussy throbbed again and I felt myself losing control and then the blows stopped. His lips were dangerously close to my ears...his breathing was heavy and ragged, his voice was the deep growl of a wild animal. "Spread your legs." He growled calmly.I could barely breath yet I obeyed. He pressed against me, his chest to my back, and he drew his fingernails across my skin, over the scar on my breast that was still so raw from the branding. I was his property. His slave to. My past actions had their own thrills at the time. Giving myself to the gangbangs. Giving myself to the office: the exhibitionism; the sexual availability. Giving myself to each of them privately or in groups as with Jake and his associates. It has all been thrilling and wanton. If there was an understanding of a slut, wouldn’t I be the example for reference?This somehow seemed more, though. How? After everything else, how? I ventured a glance at Mr. Franklin. Oh, my god! His eyes. He smiled and texted me a message under the table: “Very good, slut. You are attending to me as a slave should. Master appreciates the effort.” And that is how the rest of the day went. Master gave me feedback with his eyes or over his filthy, sexy texts that I covered with my hands and reddened as I read. I waited on him when he was hungry. I rescued him from my father’s shaggy dog stories. I rubbed his feet after our long walk downtown (thankfully plug free!) I was focused on him like I had. ” We both burst out laughing. During the course of the reception I noticed that Sylvia was not the only one to be the object of Sari’s disdain. She seemed to shower her frost over everyone except father, whom she treated with exaggerated and rather embarrassing affection, and her few friends present with whom she actually laughed. Sylvia nudged me in the ribs and asked, “How’s it going to be, having a sexy stepmother like her around the place?” I tried to laugh that one off saying, “Getting my.