It took another two hours driving to get to the cottage. Ian and Jerry sped off quickly. Ian had an MG sports car and he arrived twenty minutes before him. Billy was just pulling up next to Ian’s car when a woman came out of the cottage. Billy stepped out of the car.“You must be Mr Jones,” she said with an odd looking smile on her face. “I’ve given the keys to your... er to Mrs Jones and her friend and I’ve shown them round the place.”Billy looked non-plus.“I have the pub in the village,” she told him nodding down at the Inn on the corner of the road. “Any problems give me a shout. We also do lunches and dinners. “Billy looked uncomfortable as she turned and walked away. Taking his case from the car he went into the cottage. Jerry and Ian were upstairs unpacking. “You met Mrs Richards?” Jerry said turning to him.Billy nodded.“Ian has told her,” Jerry explained. “She thought that he was Mr Jones so we had to fill her in.”“What did she say?”“She looked quite shocked,” Ian cut in.Jerry. YOURS, to use, to abuse, to have and to hold from this day forth, for all eternity, until Hell freezes over, until I am nothing but trembling, delirious flesh drooling across your manicured and gorgeously varnished toes. YOURS.” The body heated links on the chain between my secured wrists rub at the soft curvature of my buttocks as I squirm unworthy before her. Wriggling and restrained as I feel the rounded plastic tip pressing at my lips. Teeth closed, I allow them to be pushed aside, feel it sliding across the well maintained enamel as ragged expulsions of air escape from my nostrils to quiver about its demanding length. With difficulty I raise my heavy, drooping lids so that she may cast her gaze on my beseeching eyes, so I may bathe in the warmth of her attention, so I may catch a glimpse of her tongue as it plays about her cruel lips, so I may quiver as I lose myself in the malicious glint of her observing eyes. I can feel the tears trickling unbidden, their wet trail heating.
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