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Number one. Then another, Number 2. Then we came to Number 3.„This do you?“ asked the guard.„We can start here,“ I said. The guard put in the key and unlocked the iron door. Jason and I went in, ushered by the guard, who then closed the door and left us. The Training Room was like many I had been in before. About twenty feet square, bleak and barely furnished. Running across the centre of the room were half a dozen red rubber mats. On one of these a nakes slave-girl knelt with hindquarters raised high, nose down, thights splayed. The obligatory posture of submission. To the right, in a leathern armchair sat a female Overseer, who held a long slim, ivory training switch across her knees. The Overseer was familiar garbed...black leather leotard, black thigh-length boots. She smiled in a friendly way as we entered. The only other occupant of the Training Room was a male Trainer. He was bollock naked and had skin of an attractive light coffee colour. He was lounging negligently against. The two middle-age working-class women were not the most beautiful women in London, but they loved each other. Betty was the aggressor and opened her mouth to let her tongue work its way through her lover’s patch of pubic hair. Alice opened her legs even wider as she felt Betty’s long tongue slide inside her cunt hole. Betty twirled it round and round. Then she tickled her lover’s piss slit enjoying the salty taste. This short moment excited both women as they had once experienced mutual piss licking and had promised to do it again soon. By that time, Alice’s clit was already erect, and Betty flicked her tongue on it bringing deep groans from Alice. Betty sucked on the small piece of nerve endings until Alice had her spasms and Betty felt her juices flow on her chin and down her throat. The women play wrestled for a few minutes and Betty accepted to let Alice put her face between her small buttocks and lick her there. It was a special kiss which they shared once in awhile. The.
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