I always try to get her to dance with me. Then I can compliment her on how sexy she is when she moves." I tell her all the things she wants to hear. L...ke that night. All she was planning on was doing some discreet flirting. She just wanted to be looked on again with some desire, feel like someone really wants her. The joke of it is that her husband does, he's just got out of the habit of telling her. Sometimes, and this is really funny, he does tell her those things but she's not listening. This isn't a game," she croaked. "Tell me what to do! There are soldiers out there and they'll do terrible, unspeakable things when they find me. They'll come here, looking for me ... Maybe not now, but soon..." And they'll cut off your head," I muttered bitterly."Monsieur! This isn't a joke!" And it isn't intended that way." I griped, sullen and resentful. "It's true. They'll bake your flesh into tiny meat pies. They'll strip you of your clothes, baste your skin and roast you over a wood fire.. "Don't forget to clean up this mess, slut. The flight attendants have enough to do without cleaning up after you!" he said, getting dressed himself. "Yes, Master, she said, taking some toilet paper and cleaning up her pussy puddle. She was about to throw it into the toilet when he took the wad of paper from her, sniffed it, and then tasted it with the tip of his tongue. "You are always so delicious, my sweet slut," he said. "Welcome to the Mile High Club!" Chelsea smiled. "Thank you Master.. They widened as she took in the sight of the handcuffs, several different lengths of rope, nipple clamps connected by a short chain, three different types of gags, a leather belt, and thin, menacing wooden paddle. She stared, transfixed, until finally he got impatient and snapped, “Look at me.” When she did, dragging her eyes reluctantly away from the fascinating and forbidding array of toys, he said, “Come here.” He mentally held his breath. This second encounter was crucial, and he wasn’t.
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