.. that is until about five years ago when Alma was diagnosed with breast cancer and from that day on Bill pretty much dedicated himself to taking car... of Alma when he wasn't at work. Alma died on a cold rainy January afternoon and Carl and I were there for Bill; helping with the funeral arrangements and making sure that whatever he needed was taken care of. After the funeral we didn't see much of Bill, it seemed that with Alma's death he gave up on any social life and pretty much threw himself. My dress in shreds, my bra and panties ruined.“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. More

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