Everything was always her fault. Quietly and quickly, she puts on her hat, scarf and coat. She slips into her shoes and out of the front door. Closing...it so gently behind her that it makes the softest of clicks, still she freezes and listens for the sound of feet on the stairs, signalling that she's been heard. Hearing nothing, she walks hurriedly down the path and out of the gate. Almost running down the road, she's just about to turn the corner, when she sees her neighbour. There's no. She praised me constantly, commenting in detail on my most private areas. She took a lot of close-ups of my cunt, and plenty of my face. She made me raise my knees as high as I could and took more pictures down there. She made me hold the pose until I finally collapsed. Frowning, she studied me before making a decision. Setting the camera aside, she undid my leg bindings. She picked up the camera again. “Spread them.” I looked at her—before I had no choice, now I would be participating. More

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