Vasiliki held up the crotch strap with its evil rubber plug and smiled at Carissa’s smouldering gaze. “In a little while” she said, sliding from her seat to seize the proffered buttocks in strong hands and spread them apart. “You’re so open when we speak of your sacrifice” she murmured, leaning in closer. Carissa voiced a soft sigh of resignation. “No, please” she whispered, then bit her lip; Vasiliki’s tongue lapped with infinite gentleness at the sensitive strip of skin between her gaping cunt and the tight rosebud of her arse, then her sharp teeth nipped at the velvety softness of her inner thighs. Growling softly in her throat she arched her neck over her panting slave’s loins, tracing the contours of her cunt lips with a soft wet tongue and then darting the tip between her cheeks into the pink, puckered ring. Carissa whimpered and ran her hands languidly along the back of the sofa, slowly rolling her head from side to side and baring her teeth in a tortured grimace as she fought to keep control of her traitorous body. Teeth and nails ran over her quivering flesh, nibbling and scratching from her heels to her neck, never breaking the skin yet always threatening to draw blood. With one finger Vasiliki tilted Carissa’s chin up to suck a mouthful of her white throat into her hungry mouth. This tender, teasing torment continued relentlessly until her thighs began to quiver and her breathing became hoarse and rapid - then Vasiliki sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth. “You are on the very edge” she remarked. Helpless, Carissa could only groan and nod her head. “Then you know what to do” she went on, handing over the plug before returning to her own chair and her bottle of wine. Carissa carefully buckled the thong to the back of her belt while Vasiliki regarded her with cold amusement. Wincing and panting, she forced the broad plug into her moistened arse and then pulled the attached leather deep between her cunt lips and up to its fastening in the front, never taking her blue eyes from Vasiliki for a moment. “Now attend to your face and hair” she ordered, “and wear the white cotton frock - and the high-heeled boots. Then we shall go to Susan’s villa and see what she does with you”. Soon they were making their way along a winding road back up the hillside to where an isolated and derelict Venetian villa looked down over Baphoria’s harbour. Night was falling, and as soon as they were away from the edge of town Vasiliki bent Carissa over a rough stone wall at the side of the road, swiped her arse twice with a braided leather dog lead - just to leave two red marks - and secured it to her collar to lead her onward. “I think I am coming to like Susan” she observed, suddenly talkative after a long silence. “She is evil to her slaves - quite brutal. Before the first of these cannibal victims washed up on the japanese shore of Barataria I even hoped that she might be the one, if only we could oriental have found a way to make you disappear”. She sensed that Carissa wished to speak. “Yes”? “I - perhaps I can do that” she stammered. “I think about it all the time - and I found a blog about Dmitri which said that some of his women may have been falsely reported missing in an avalanche. I could do something like that. I don’t know”. Her voice trailed away. “We must be completely sure” Vasiliki pronounced. “And I know that they are out there, watching asian me, waiting to make contact”. She set her jaw and quickened their pace. “I’m sure of it. Enjoy grovelling for me MILF tonight, because these games and pretences will soon be over. Soon we will find the King in Yellow and it will all become very real”. There’s only one question: What if he doesn’t want MILF it to be me? He still thinks of me as a “twerp”. She hiked it up further, exposing the bottom of her cheeks, and folded the top over to ensure her hips and waists would still get bronzed by the sun. She looked up at me and said, “Cherry, what are you doing here?” If you were with a woman at the beach you were allowed to place your blanket or towels on the sand quite close to them. “Mr. Emerson?” I asked…not knowing. The drugs kept an erotic loop playing in her mind of the ways in which her sticky breasts and throbbing twat had been used so recently. 'How can you be so sure,' he asked her. My load began to build as I oriental committed every sensation to memory. “Looking for a job, and a place to live.” She sighed. I'd never want another japanese woman's hands to touch me," he endorsed me, slanting his head back to me. Since there were four of us in the room, we made a real asian mess. “Just levelling the playing field.”