I am my parent’s first child and they named me Mick O’Dell the Fifth. The story is that my mother, Angel, told my father that she wanted me to be ...amed Mick the Fifth and when he asked why, all she said was “Trust me”. I remember hearing that phrase a lot growing up.Mom and dad were the greatest people I could imagine, and I could imagine a lot. My father taught me how to run the farm and my mother taught me how to read, write and do math. My mother taught me accounting because my father wanted. He pulled over once and gavePenelope a drink using an intubated bottle and checked her vitals andthen injected her again to keep her incapacitated. He was tempted tostart fucking her now but he knew it would be a rash move and besides,the drive gave him time to savour all the things he was going to do toher.He did lift up her skirt and stare at her panties and nylon-sheathedthighs while he masturbated into the stocking. He wondered why she didn'thave a bulge in her panties. He had never been. “Hi,” she said sweetly and oh so seductively.“Hi.” My voice, however, was low and thick because my mouth was bone dry.She was on her knees between my legs and her body swayed to the beat. I was vaguely aware she had turned the music down making it background noise. “Lift up,” she ordered, tugging on my sweats.Without a word, I lifted my hips and she pulled them down. Her hands moved up my legs, kissing my inner thigh spreading them as she went. I felt her nails digging into my skin as she moved. His hand went quickly and solidly to my groin. As soon as his hand hit my groin he clutched my cock and balls in his fist and squeezed hard. Using his strong arm to guide me by the crotch we moved around the desk."Strip!" he commanded, releasing my tender groin.I began to undress, shaking from my nerves and wondering what I was in for. At least other people knew I was here. Nothing too bad could happen, right."Try to relax, slut." he said. "You're here to apply for my slave, right. How did you.