I could not decide if I looked like a trashy sex slave ready to be used; or a mistress who would elegantly make her needs known with a flutter of the ...ingers. But, the feeling of chaos in my head and the willing loss of control excited me.I was losing control and the feeling intoxicated me.When I arrived Mistress Monique was sitting on a throne. A huge wood and leather armchair that stood on a wide carpeted dais. The rest of the room was empty but I noted that the walls were festooned with. Munna mausi looked at me and playfully shook my little penis and said, “Bah. Tui to ektu boro hoye gechhis dekchi!!” (Bah! You have grown up a little.) I said nothing, she poured a couple of mugs over me, some water splashed over her too, her aanchal slipped off exposing her deep cleavage and I could see that she was not wearing a bra. It was the first time I had seen a woman’s cleavage up close and that too of someone whose cleavage I had admired from the vantage point of my verandah. I felt. More

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