She waited for him to use her. Master guided her head toward him and let the end of his cock enter her mouth through the leather gag. Her tongue found...the tip and beckoned it into her warm, wet orifice. She ran her tongue over the head feeling the rough edge of where he had been circumcised. It felt weighty and hot and tasted of leather. Master must have had a good run; he was always more excited after a good run. He playfully pretended it was the bike and the open road but she knew it was. Now we were both in our late twenties we saw each other only intermittently. Three or four times a year I would visit their Derbyshire home, a converted farmhouse just outside Bakewell. Usually, I’d stay for two nights. Did I fancy Megan? Of course I did -- who wouldn’t. Aged twenty-four, only five-one and sumptuously curved, she was certainly a tidy little package. No! That doesn’t do her justice. She was gob-smacking gorgeous: her brown eyes large and always pencilled darkly, and with her. More

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