The sound of footsteps on the stairs broke her self-absorption. A hard rap on the door. “Mistress Wanda, it is midnight,” came the gruff voice of ...he Servant.Wanda picked up her bullwhip and cracked it in front of the mirror, feeling her power, heels clicking on the concrete floor as she turned and headed for the door.The cellar was dank and cavernous, used formerly to house a wine collection it had been transformed into an ersatz torture chamber, with a pillory, a wooden framework to secure. I tugged it out from her, and we were both relieved to see it still contained a copious amount of my spunk. We spent a further ten minutes kissing and cuddling on the sofa before she got up and said she had better get home as her mother would be wondering where she was. I saw her to the doorway in the wall and kissed her goodnight. I quickly tidied up in the shed before heading for home myself. What a night and many more to come!The following morning, I was back at Mrs Cameron’s and spent a. More

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