Obviously, these were always short or tight, often both. While these changes pleased Paul, they came at a certain cost. People, of course, noticed the...difference and judged me because of it. Girls would call me a slut as I walked by just because of how I dressed. Lads would hit on me more often, clearly thinking I would be easy. And my parents moaned about the style of clothes. I didn't care, though; I was Paul’s slut and proud of it. So, this story begins six weeks after my first night with. This was done in front of the now hysterical couple. ?Get me down that painting?, she ordered the guards. It was clearly a lovely painting of the old couple and their family, painted in better times. ?Very nice?, she said, ?? but I think it needs a little improvement right ?. there?, she pointing to a spot before putting her jewelled fist right through it. ?Oh dear, look what I?ve done?, she said with ill-concealed glee. ?How clumsy I am!?Her smile quickly changed: ?Ok, I want you to wreck this. More

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