Crying and upset I yelled at him. ?How can I be a perfect bimbo with my make-up all runny like this?? I demanded to know. ?You have to tell me when it...gets like this.??????Daddy took me in his arms and soothed me. ?Tell you what,? he said, his voice soft and soothing, ?I will make an appointment with Doctor Watanabe and get you permanent make-up. How does that sound???????I looked up at him and smiled. ?Do you mean it?? I asked, excited at the thought.??????We can go in and do the digital model. His broadcloth shirt laces were also undone and the two wings of his shirt hung down.My father was still a fine figure of a man, of average height of an English plantation owner in Jamaica, barrel chested and slim waisted, with a shock of reddish hair on his head and in tuffs elsewhere on his hard, muscular body. His cock was of proud proportions, although not near what our West African field slaves were swinging.Jimar had been uppity ever since my father took him to bed. He and I were of the. More

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