Oliver grinned to himself - he remembered the lovely comtesse hadmentioned about the dagger and her need for a proper blade to fit thehilt, and had se...med intrigued when Oliver boasted that he could createa fine blade befitting such a hilt. Of course, years of wasting away athis craft, due to his partaking of fine wine and women, had degeneratedhis skills to a point where he no longer could even temper a simplepiece of steel.Thank God for that pathetic slave-boy, thought Oliver. He was. Now count!” I said, as my hand landed on her cheek.One! Two! Three! Her moans were no longer of pain, but of the genuine pleasure she derived from being spanked.Four! Five! Six! Between the smacks on her butt cheek, she would grind her pussy against my lap.Seven! Eight! Nine! The sweet scent of her maiden juice filled my nostrils and thoroughly soaked my slacks. I smacked her cheek three more times in quick succession.Ten! Eleven! Twelve! She cried out as her body shivered in orgasmic bliss and. More

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