The upholstery of the couch felt odd on my bare skin. My dick rose to stick stiffly at the ceiling. Sarah's boots clacked down the hallway. She had removed her shirt and jeans and her milky tits jutted gloriously over her corset. She was wearing black fishnet stockings and I finally confirmed her neatly trimmed bush was as red as her hair. Fuck, this was worth anything, I thought."Like what you see?" she purred, then swished a long whippy cane. "Time to pay the piper."She reached down and grabbed my erection in her cool left hand and urged me off the couch.She kissed me then, her tongue warm against mine."Thank you for this. Kneel on the seat, lean on the back and stick out your ass."I did as I was told, adrenaline pumping. I looked over my shoulder at my soon-to-be torturer. Her face was radiant. Her body had a light sheen of sweat and seemed to glow in the dim room."Count them." She broke eye contact and stared at her target. I turned and faced the wall, abandoning myself.Tap tap. "Have a pleasant evening," she said with a broad smile.We said our farewells to Mr. Ransome, and I led Mercy around the house to Pamela's basement room. We made our way down the dark steps and waited for our eyes to adjust to the cellar gloom. It was a small space, with just a single bed and chair. Pegs stuck in the wall held the woman's clothes, and one narrow window let in a bit of air."Is this Pamela's dress?" I asked as I unhooked the bodice and nibbled at her throat."Um," she said as she worked on my new neck cloth, undid the buttons and helped me pull my shirt over my head. I carefully hung her dress on a wall peg."It's a fine dress," I said, holding her lush breasts from behind and kissing her ear, shoulder and cheek. She wriggled under my hands, and I helped her take off her new shift. She sat on the bed and unlaced her shoes, pulled off the knitted stockings, and slid under the quilt while I sat on Pamela's chair and got my clothes off. I was glad I had trimmed my spotty.
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