“That’s it, you have a damn good sniff first ... sniff at how aroused I am at owning you ... sniff hard at the scent of your defeat, and know that...each lick of my cunt may be your last...” She watched him snort and sniff at her spice, bucking and thrusting at the bedding, as her pet flicked the cane impatiently. She’d dominated countless males in her time, and disposed of more than she cared to remember, but the prospective torture, humiliation ... and eventual snuffing of this one, had all her. Edward Davetsky was a large man who put one in mind of Santa Claus, despite looking nothing like the traditional images. He was tall and lean but it was his spirit, Connie thought, that brought Father Christmas to mind. He called Connie his mouse because she’d been so small when she was born. ‘In here, Grampa,’ she teased. She stood up and ran back into the foyer, Emily following more slowly. Her parents stood there, with Simon behind them. ‘Well, come on, hug your old man,’ he instructed with. More

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