He sat beside me on the bed. "Do you have my money" he asked. "I have some" I replied reaching for my briefcase. He took the briefcase from me, opened...the lid and removed the small pile of twenty dollar notes. "This paltry amount" he tossed the money on to the bed. Disgusted he pulled me over his lap, reached under my skirt and roughly yanked my underwear down my stockinged legs. My knickers were stuffed in my mouth muffling my protests. "Mrs Sukoff I am not happy. You owe me the original $20k. My clitoris, (See my photos) is not large nor are my labia, petite they say, like petals, delicate and sensual, point is, that for all the the abuse they received, they remained virginal in appearance. My earliest recollection to the awareness of the sensuous feelings eminating from my clitoris was when I was just a budding 9 year old girl, buttocks like a boy and flat chested. I was in bed reading a magazine and came across an erotic advert, showing a man in scanty underpants, with a. " Who's a good boy then?" she sneered. "Go on. Go through there."George went off in the direction indicated by her disdainful finger. Rather than one of the playrooms used for their domination business, it was obviously Deanna's own room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, copies of magazines lay open on the floor, a half eaten bowl of cornflakes was balanced on the arm of a battered armchair."Strip off," Deanna announced. "Erica says you can do the basics, right?"George nodded uncertainly,. Then I heard someone clear their throat behind me. “Don’t mess with my iron, you shhhkinny little punk.”It was Becky Finklestein, in a dark blue sweatsuit this time. She had her hair in a tight ponytail and her freckled face was dotted with sweat, and she wasn’t wearing any glasses. She pointed her giant rack up at me, and got close enough to me that I had to look straight down at her. She didn’t look as angry as the last time I saw her, but she still didn’t look happy. “You need to get the.