Very early on she had written him, begging to know more about who he was. He allowed her to pose three questions. He fully expected them to be of the ...sual mundane type: “How old are you?” “What do you look like?” “How do you earn your living?” or maybe “Where do you live?” But she asked none of these. She wanted to know about his likes and dislikes. And his views on punishment. And what he looked for in a slave. Slave. He disliked that word. It harkened back to the world of games, of D/s, of. I leaned against Steve to steady myself whilst I dressed and I heard him gasp as he wantonly ogled me. The split in the side seam of the skirt exposed my sheer hosed legs right up to the top of my thigh, and I exposed a glimpse of white satin panty as I adjusted my translucent white nylon slip under my skirt. I felt Steve's hard muscled bicep as my painted fingernails dug into his arm and remembered how dangerous this could be."Christ you look good Michele. With that torn skirt, laddered. More

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