Oh, Vicky, it was wonderful.”Like Clinton... I trembled. I was a submissive. I learned that the day Cheryl brought me into her boyfriend's bed. Clin...on and her had only been nineteen while I was eighteen. A trembling virgin with braces. I submitted to him—I did anything he asked—and I loved him for it. As much as I missed my man, I also missed being taken in hand. Dominated. Cheryl needed it even more. She was always closer to Clinton. I had tried to be dominant for her, but I just didn't have. We came back four months later, older wiser and one man down. Jodie never left my side throughout the funeral. As I sat on the couch that evening she brought me a coffee and slid in next to me. ‘Now I understand why my mom and dad’s death didn’t hit you so hard.’ She had caught me in one of my more unguarded moments, I had just lost a very good friend and she was comparing her own father to my friend. Hell she was old enough, so I told her everything, from the death of our mom to the reluctance. More

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