"And is not this daughter dead?" demanded Monte Cristo; "I fancy I have heard so." Yes, monsieur, one and twenty years ago; and since then we have not...seen the poor marquis three times." Thanks, thanks," said Monte Cristo, judging from the steward's utter prostration that he could not stretch the cord further without danger of breaking it. "Give me a light." Shall I accompany you, monsieur?" No, it is unnecessary; Bertuccio will show me a light." And Monte Cristo accompanied these words by the. I secretly hoped he would say no or that my mother would overhear and intervene, but no such luck. “I’d love some orange juice, pet.” He said. I blushed at the nickname, excused myself, and walked a little stiffly into the kitchen to serve my dear Master. As I walked, I felt the thrill of the secret inside my panties, the reminder that my ass belongs to him and the deeper satisfaction of providing my Master with some small token of my affection and gratitude. His eyes were fixed on me as I sat. More

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