She unlocked her door and stepped in. She lived alone and tonight, was glad. She threw some supper together from the leftovers in her fridge and sat d...wn on the sofa, her plate on her knee and Lady Chatterley’s Lover in her hand. Constance had decided to give the book a chance, to read it with an open mind, after all if Oliver loved it so much perhaps she would too. He had admitted at coffee how much he despised Charles Dickens, but had never had the courage to write poorly about his work. He. Out of nowhere, a hand slaps down hard on my right ass cheek, causing me to pull my legs together defensively and scream in pain and surprise. The owner of the hand snidely comments, "Who the fuck trained this whore? She can't even stand still for a little slap on the ass. I'm not sure she is worth the good money we paid." Daddy reassures him that, though I am in need of training, I am eager to learn and will do whatever it takes to make sure they get their money's worth. I'm not quite as. More

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