I continued to kneel by her chair, knees still widely spread, hands behind my back, chest thrust forward - a forgotten slave at her mistress's feet. I...felt heat growing between my thighs. I wondered what my friends thought of me now. Were they shocked to see me here, dressed as a slave, obedient to a woman's wishes? Did they think I was just playing a role, that tomorrow I would be the carefree, innocent American student they had known? Or had they somehow already known that inside that. But there they were. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Mikey, but it is what it is. Roger does it for me. I love you still, it's just that I need a little more than, well, than you're able to give me," she said. "I hope you can see what I'm saying here, my husband, and let me have this little thing." "Really," I said. "You sure not how to hurt a guy, Leslie." Evidently I wasn't demonstrating enough angst or hurt or whatever; she actually looked perplexed. "Mikey? What's going on?" she said.. More

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