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He was probably confused, probably not sure what he was expected to do. Maybe he wasn’t even sure what was appropriate for him to do. That’s why she would remove any doubt. Mary uncrossed her legs, and spread them just a little. She was not flashing him, but she was certainly giving the suggestion. ‘Hi, Charlie.’ His eyes were dead center on her legs and skirt. ‘Hi, Mary.’ She spread her legs a little further. There was a chance he might be getting a glimpse of her pink panties. ‘How long is your meeting tonight?’ His eyes had not moved. ‘Not long,’ he said, distantly. ‘I should be back by six.’ ‘Too long,’ she teased him. She spread her legs a little further. She was sure that if he tried he could now see a flash of her panties. ‘Probably,’ he agreed, staring at and between her creamy thighs. ‘But my job is all I have left, you know that.’ ‘You have much more than your job, you just don’t believe it yet.’ Mary spread her legs even more, and slid just a bit forward on her chair.. I had expected something painful or at least very unpleasant, a whipping, another rough fucking, more clamps on my nipples, whatever comes to her devious mind. Instead two expert hands start to massage my body. The hands, probably those of a girl, judging from the soft breathing I hear behind me, feel wonderful as they massage the tension out of my shoulders. She takes her time and by the time she reaches my breasts I'm fully relaxed.But that changes when I feel my nipples stiffen. That's wrong. I mustn't enjoy this. My body mustn't get pleasure out of this. After all, I'm still being held captive, a sex slave, a plaything, as the woman had said. Yet there's not much I can do about it. My mind is fighting the sensations, my body eagerly accepts them. I can imagine what's going to happen once the girl has reached my pussy. I've always been easily aroused. Then another thought crosses my mind: I've suffered a lot at the hand of this woman, why shouldn't I enjoy the pleasures now? It's.
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