I flushed at the recollection of idle small talk. Eyeing his sculpted definition beneath those tight jeans, torso protruding from the under-sink space as he fiddled with pipes. By the time he asked if I could run the water, I was a mess and stepped to straddle his physique. Sans panties.He noticed. His bulge grew and, from there, hadn't taken much convincing to sit up and eat me while I gripped the sink edge and ground my sopping pussy on his mouth.When he stood behind me and yanked the shoulder straps down, cupping my breasts, I bit my lip at our reflection, his mouth and chin glistening in the sun streaming through the skylight. He'd lifted my skirt, freed his hardness and slipped inside my soaked pussy. Things spiralled out of control from there, torrid and frenzied, and here he was, once again poised at my star.Our eyes met in the mirror and he worked inside, pushing past the inner ring with a soft pop that we both felt. There was no finesse to either invasion. This was fucking.. Besides which heknows that Slate is not someone you would want to annoy. The fourof them ride up in the elevator quietly, the two men supporting the weakenedand wavering slave girl between them as they step out on the top floor andescort Fiona and Alison back to their apartment. Fiona opens the door with oneof those magnetic key cards which she had been given by Slate as Mistress ofthe house but which only he possesses the code for. The door lockselectronically on both sides, preventing anyone from entering or leavingwithout the passkey. So even if Alison were to somehow awaken in the dead ofnight and somehow free herself from the chains holding her to her bed, there?sno way she could get out of the apartment short of jumping out the window,forty-five stories up. In fact, thoughts of escape are the last thing onAlison?s mind right now as her three companionshalf-carry the semi-conscious young woman directly into her frilly girlishbedroom, now decked out with all kinds of bizarre.
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