Finally reaching his floor Richard noted the smell of sick coming from thehallway. It seemed that someone had thrown up again outside their flat.Richa...d hoped that it wasn't Linda. Wrinkling his nose Richard gingerlymade his way to his flat. Getting the keys out his handbag Richard openedthe door gently trying not to disturb Linda who was probably passed outagain.Entering the room Richard noted that the lights were off and that the onlysource of light was coming from the small TV in the corner. “Fuck slaves don’t get to wear clothes,” my Miss had told me as what was left of my garments was tossed aside leaving me with only my pretty pink collar encircling my throat.Sometimes I was her slut or her whore. Or so many of the other humiliating names she called me. Today was different. I was her fuck slave. Not only hers but her husband’s. Jake. She’d made that very clear.“Today you belong to us.”I’d simply nodded meekly, unable to respond after she buckled a black ballgag into place. All I. There is a LINE, you know! That HAS to stop SOMEWHERE! It’s the POPE! Could you PLEASE, for ONCE in your life accept there is someone who outranks you and act accordingly? Besides Kate and Caroline, I mean? Please? But ... AH! Just ... I’m sorry Your Holiness, it’s just that this man can be so...”First I thought the Pope and Father Vincenzo were in a rugby scrum of two. They were leaning on each other’s shoulders, heads close together as if they were heaving a secret conversation. But then it. “Mmmmm. Smack it again,” she said looking over the shoulder at him, biting her lip.He slapped her fat, bubbly ass again and it rippled endlessly with the sound echoing in their living room. An utterance of fuck under her breath followed as her eyes and mouth opened wider in response to the sting.“Walk to the table and bend over.”She strolled towards the dining room table with a hand still grabbing the back of her neck and bent over at a ninety degree angle; laying her stomach flat on the table.
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