Getting my hand free took a long time and I am sure that I have some nicks from trying, but I am free! Now I starting feeling the space that I am con...ined in. It is wooden and feels like a coffin. It is Halloween after all and Mistress has a wicked sense of humor. A coffin. Maybe she put a false bottom in it. I run my hand all along the edges. I feel under me. I feel the top over my head. Nothing. NOTHING…NOTHING…What Now.Then it hits me the top! And sure enough I feel an opening in the. Part of me concluded what was happening, the rest of me was trying to escape, I had my eyes closed begging them to just go. Shortly after I felt a smack hit me on my cheek. I could tell it wasnt a hand slightly tapping, but something thicker on width and in the shape more like a finger. It clicked. At this point Id like to point out I cant tell you which boy is which from here on, my memory is fairly distorted. One of the two repeatedly hit me on my cheek telling me to open my mouth. I. I was to wash him. He turned on the hot water and waited for me to finish squirting his goo out of my butt. I joined him and soaped up his back and washed him down. He alternated between caressing my body like a lover and slapping me like he hated me. The whole experience from knowing I was to be taken to feeling his hands on me in the shower was the most exciting sex I think I’ve ever had.I loved it but I didn’t want to say so. Part of me wanted to swoon but only a tiny part. He was treating. Their chauffeur, Joseph Maaisai, lived by himself in the Stanford's old carriage house. It no longer housed a 'carriage' or a horse and buggy for that matter but instead was the garage for an old Jaguar that was in constant state of disrepair. The damned English never could build a car that ran well. The Brits couldn't even make other equipment that ran either. Having reliable, mechanically top of the line equipment like the Germans almost beat the English twice if the Yanks hadn't saved their.
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