Sandrine’s breasts were firm and high. Her nipples didn’t point to the Moon, but they were up, slightly out, sat atop dark, inch-wide, perfectly r...und areolae. They were hard after leaving the warmer confines of the bra and jersey. The bush we’d perceived through her panties was a straight, jet black landing strip about an inch and a half wide, the hairs trimmed to maybe half an inch. Apparently, playing right wing on a women’s hockey team is good for the constitution. Sandrine’s abdomen was. My nose is a breath away from the mysterious waterfall. ‘You will bathe every day. This ritual, you will not neglect.I catch a bit of disgust in her words. I show her pictures of my life and taint them with the desire to be clean. Her response startles me. She does not answer with words. My trainer projects her sympathy for the life I have lived then assurance that I will never have to worry about another thing in the service of our Masters.Tahlana releases my thoughts, and I contemplate her. More

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