After, back at the camp I was given my dress back by my master (as he liked me to call him) who had it to wear and told we were going to the bike show... It had been roughly shortened by about 3-4 inches and now barely covered my ass. At the show we meet up with another large group of guys who the knew and meet up at shows around the country. One of them saw me and said whos the tart. My master replied I was his slut slave who he had won in a card game and boy doesnt she fuck. With that he told. Every smack of his hand-me-down boots against the wooden drawbridge begs the question, Is this finally for real? He pinches his arm proper. Ouch. Yes, it’s really for real.Two stern-faced humans stand on either side of the fort’s raised portcullis. They’re suited up with green leather armor, drawn tight around their arms and legs, emblazoned with the King’s crest on the chest piece: a mythological harpy devouring a serpent.“Hail, recruit!” The leftward guard raises his right hand to a. More

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