The door swung open and my Dad came into the room witha black and white maid uniform, and his hair done intoa high bun on his head. He wouldn't let me...all him Dad, he just told me to call him Maria andnothing else, and that he was on the service of mymother that he called mistress.I survived the days, with the continuous lessons ongirlhood, on how to sit, run and dance, with theboring ballet lessons, that were really tedious withtheir fragile movements, their pink tights and theblack leotards.I. I turn back to him. "Look but don't touch, sir," I say in a little girl voice I use for the bar. He grins up at me like a naughty child. "I hope you don't mind a little fur. I trim it but I don't shave like some of the girls." "I don't mind," he says, lust dripping from his voice. Good. They're more suggestible when they're horny. "It's the cutest little kitty I've seen. Makes me want to stroke it." I flash him a pretty schoolgirl smile then bend towards him, allowing my full-sized C-cups to. More

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