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We chatted more and we talked about our home lives and our wives. And our sex lives. Or, in my case, the lack of it. I started to feel tired with the ...un beating down on my nakedness, the humidity and the beer, all having effects. So I lay down, flat on my back and started drifting into the twilight of sleep.However I was startled out of my peace by the feel of a cold, wet, cream hitting my cock and balls. I sharply sat up, leaning on my elbows, to see Bill kneeling beside me pouring sun tan. It was clear and although not loud, it was not the mumbling of a scared and naked slave girl. Her voice was bell like, not the deep chime of the Church, but the light lilt of a dinner bell.“It does not.” I simply stated and sipped my drink again. “What was your name before you were a slave?”She looked up at me then. Her brown green eyes pleaded with me directly for a second, and then dropped back down. “Please Master, that girl died when I became a slave. Any name you wish is acceptable to a. More

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