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I sat in the chair and she firmly said STAY! And patted me on the head good boy. Ok, I was getting treated like a dog, but it was turning me on. She went into the laundry room and returned with some clothesline cut up into lengths maybe 24” she proceeded to bind both my ankles and then took my arms and placed them to the side and secured them to each other by connecting a piece of the line to each wrist then attaching those two pieces. So, I was naked and secured now what.She held my chin up. "Baiseur," she muttered."Tell me," I growled."Never call me Princess," she finally admitted. "Only my father calls me Princess."I heard the misery within the word. "Not an endearment?" Usually it followed 'stuck-up, '" she grimaced.I couldn't help chuckling again. "Bitch, you are stuck-up." I ... I'm proud, proud of who I am. I'm not ... I try not to be. Father..." What does he do after he calls you that?" I asked while continuing to harden my cock. She'd taken interest in my success and. Al couldn't quit talking about how Sue had worked the dealer for all the equipment they needed. The total cost was a third of what I had projected.I told Sue about the new space and about the delivery, and that Abe and Tom were taking Gene his materials. I told her we were going to need to build a frame for Al so he could begin seeing if he could do the race car sheet metal, but I wanted to use this one as a training aid for Tom. She agreed with that.I took Al into the welding shop to see how. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your supper.”Was it that late? Not that I cared about that, or about supper. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not now that Mrs Cathcart had sat down on the sofa, spreading her legs, sliding forward and pushing the neck of the bottle into her pussy.“Darren? Are you still there?”“Yes, mum.” I was there, but I couldn’t speak. Harry was up on the sofa, slapping his big cock against his wife’s face. It was a mesmerising sight.“Supper,” my mother said. “How long do you think.
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