An hour of kneeling naked imprisoned in the bathroom. He looked down at me, kneeling naked and shivering in the cold of the air conditioned room. ?I...��ve been doing some research on your accounts slave. I’ve called Bernard down to have a meeting with me in ten minutes. And I want you to be at the meeting slave.?I looked up at him puzzled. What was he planning? I had no doubts that my cruel tormentor had further plans to intimidate and bully me. It would not be a conventional meeting.?Don’t. The man in the painting has his hand running through her hair, and had his face turned against her throat. There wasn’t anything truly racy about the picture. They were clothed in Victorian style clothing and there wasn’t anything pornographic about it. It was actually a sweet and tender moment. Except her body had throbbed and a damp heat pooled between her thighs remembering her dream just that morning. It seemed fateful that a post card that held such a simple image had an erotic. More

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