I wished for things like saving up enough money tostart a business back home, or getting a green card. It's funny how lifeturns out - I also dreamed o... fucking blond American girls, not that theypaid much attention to me.Lookswise, I looked like plenty of other Mexican teens - caramel-coloredskin, black eyes and jet-black straight hair. I was smoother and slimmedthan most, but apart from that I was a pretty ordinary Mexican guy.John hired me to do chores around the house like gardening. He had. I go into the computer room and turn the speaker volume way up, waiting for the familiar mechanical, "YOU’VE GOT MAIL" voice, and I go climb back in our empty king size bed. I pull your pillow over to my side and bury my face in it inhaling deeply the smell of your perfume seeps into my olfactory membrane and I can slowly feel my cock start to harden. I am warm and feeling slightly guilty as I drift off thinking.I would much rather have you here with me all snug and warm, lying in our bed naked. It was a garish monument to Mammon, built some seventy years ago at the height of the slave trade, and high prices for sugar and rum. The owner’s fortune had declined with the end of the Napoleonic War, and the suppression of the slave trade from Africa.Alasdair Cambull had acquired the property four years previously, and then added an extra wing, which made the already overblown structure rather grotesque.The Royal Party was to spend three nights at Blandon Hall, during which time a banquet, a. Two birchings and a further warning from Madame Vesta had made her realise that, whatever her feelings, she must submit with apparent willingness to the obscene maulings of whatever b**st of a man happened to fancy her. And, it need hardly be said, the gross, pot-bellied Quentin Osman particularly revolted her.No sooner had she picked up the soap than Quentin pulled her to him, crushing her apple-round breasts to his chest, squeezing those tight bottom cheeks. “Soap me, little one,” he said.The.