She then injected thetraining aid into the IV and the mirrors were replaced with systemagain. As before, the effects of the drug were to cause my memory to fogover and my recollection of what was happening on the TV screens waslost. The remainder of the day was the same and the very sameness causedme to further loose track of time. I slept and was again awaken by thepresence of my training mistress who once again released me and took meto the bathroom. As had happened before, I was connected to. Harwell and I sat waiting for our appointment in a comfortable ante-room.Exactly at the time agreed for our appointment, the door to Merriweather's office opened and a tall, negro woman – I adjudged her to have come from the southern African colonies – emerged. She cut an imposing figure, dressed very much to my own tastes in a high-necked blouse with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a long straight skirt that clung closely to her hips and thighs. About her neck she wore a thin gold chain from which. "There you are." The voice was friendly.Emily turned around to see her lover, Gemma, smiling at her. She was wearing her usual, off-the-shelf body, but she was dressed up. Her hair was dark red today, and she'd styled it over one eye. Her remaining visible eye was framed with thick, black eyeshadow, reminding Emily of a raccoon. She wore a tight black spandex top that only covered one shoulder, contrasting it with a surprisingly tomboyish pair of combat trousers."This place is beautiful," said. She leaned against the car and took of her belt. With me facing her, still handcuffed, she put her hand on my shoulder and pushed me down into a squatting position in front of her. She took her belt and put it behind my head as an improvised collar or leash and pulled my face toward her crotch.I licked hungrily at her pink satin panties. I never done this before, not even as a teenager, so I wasn't sure I was even doing it right. But I heard her sigh heavily and felt her pelvis pushing into my.
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