..........................................I was dragged down the cold steel steps into the dimly lit basement by the leash on my collar, my Mistress C...rissy was going to punish me and punish me good for having disappointed her and my former slave Donna.I was getting very used to the basement now, as she had turned it into my dungeon, the place she uses to keep me and punish me accordingly.It was only lit up by candlelight, any other night and it would have seemed romantic, but not tonight,. “Oh ... Hi, Karen.”“Hello, Mr. Baird ... drumming up subscribers?”“Every chance I get. Who’s your friend?”“Angie, John Baird. John, Angie. John is the proprietor of The Buckskin Report. Angie is part and parcel of the Pickle Barrel Sandwich Shop in Bozeman. I tore her away from her occupation last week. We are here for fun and frolic.”“Mom gave me a week off ... I have no idea why...” Angie said. “That’s a lie ... she gave me a week off to catch my boyfriend cheating on me.”That last little bit. They squeeze and fondle my tits, roll and pinch my nipples as I take turns with each of them, sucking and stimulating them all to complete hardness. I feel my own wanton desire building inside me and suck their cocks like a common whore.They lift me from the floor and place me on a low, rough work bench on my hands and knees. I feel hands on my hips, holding me steady and let out a long, obscene groan of pleasure as a thick, hard cock plunges into my wet pussy from behind. With no finesse, no. Neatly laid out beds of ornamental plants and brightly colored fungi imparted a sense of being in a formal garden.At their approach, Dron looked up reluctantly from his contemplation of a delicately wrought bronze statuette of some exotic water creature. He had thrown aside his robe, and lay at ease on one of the low pedestals that served his race as chairs or benches, enjoying one of the rare patches of sunlight that struck through breaks in the scattered cloud cover. Motioning them to nearby.