“Please,” I say. “Please lick my pussy.”“Don’t know what a pussy is,” she is saying between kisses. “Try something else.”“Please... Grace,” I almost plead. I know what she wants and say it. “Please lick my cunt.”“That’s better,” she says to me as she kisses higher on my thigh, teasing me with her lips and tongue. “You have got to be a filthy little whore for me and I will be for you.”My mind is racing. I know what to say. I’ve seen all dad’s films and listened to them. I’ve said them to. It was made of a golden-coloured wood, with straps to secure hands and feet at the tips of each V. Being strapped in would have meant your bottom in the air, and your hands and feet spread, and on the floor.Daniel had been itching at his trouser area in a way that vaguely concerned me since we entered the house. At first I assumed he was merely uncomfortable in his clothes. As I bent over the horse, he showed me the problem.As he went over to the bed to select an instrument, he unzipped his. More

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