The receptionist looked coldly at their rucksacks and rain gear. “Yes, we have one double room available. One hundred and eighty marks a night. Payment in advance.” Even though it was almost mid-September there were a lot of visitors around and Damon and Matt had failed to find accommodation in any of the cheaper hotels. So, tired and wet, they eventually found themselves in the swank lobby of the Adler in Koblenz’s Mulderstrasse as darkness fell. Luckily, the Adler accepted travelers’ cheques. “What I need now is a long, hot bath,” Damon sighed as they stepped into the lift. Later, as they carefully chose a meal from one of the hotel menus, Matt joked. “We’ll have to go on bread and water for the next few days.” The rest of the diners looked an ordinary lot, except for two women, dressed in expensive, body-hugging sweaters and slacks, which stood out – literally – from the rest. They had the sort of self-confident urbanity that goes with money. And the sort of mature figures that promise hours of pneumatic bliss. As he eyed them, Damon could feel his loins stirring. He had often heard it said that the best bed partner was a raunchy older woman. It had been six months since he had had any sex. Rugby and law studies had taken up all his time. And he and Matt had spent the summer slaving 12 hours a day, six days a week, in a fast food joint. They were now in the second week of a month long hitchhiking holiday before returning to college for their final year. “Fancy them,” smiled Matt, as the two blondes stood up and walked out to the lobby, their stilettos clicking seductively. “You bet,” replied Damon. “If they’re half as sexy as they look they’d probably devour half the men in the hotel.” As it was still raining rather heavily the boys decided there was no point in venturing out to look for local nightlife. The bar, like everything else in the hotel, was expensive, so they set themselves a three-beer limit. Half through their second drink, Matt muttered: “watch out, it’s the Big Four.” Damon looked up to see the two women from the dining room seating themselves at a nearby table. “This looks promising,” he thought, as one of them gave him a friendly nod. A few minutes later, as Matt folded away his large-scale map, she suddenly asked: “Are you American?” “No, English.” “Oh, I spent some time in England. At a language school.” “Really? Where?” “London.” Anxious to keep the conversation going, the boys introduced them-selves: Matt and Damon, students at Cambridge. The women did likewise: Lola and Angelina, from Vanessa, on a business trip. Lola, the younger of the two, had lovely, regular features, long hair and a stunning figure. Her companion was plainer and rather severe looking. But her curves were even more generous and she exuded a strong, earthy sex appeal. The poise and overall ap-pearance of both women suggested membership of high-class health clubs. They would command attention in any company. They had very good English and the talk ranged over travel, food, prices, and even politics. But the conversation -and the evening – took a very definite turn when Angelina, leaning towards Damon, asked: “Do you have girl-friends in Cambridge?” Half an hour later the four of them were seated at the same table. By 11 o’clock they had ‘paired off’ and, much to the disgust of the two bar staff, were holding hands and kissing. They made a handsome quartet – with just one thing on their minds: Sex. Several hours later Damon was try-ing to force himself to sleep. His mind was a jumble of erotic images and salacious thoughts. His loins ached. What a night! What a pair of nymphos ! They had all gone up to the women’s room. Angelina had switched on the light – because “we like to see where we’re going” – and, without any preliminaries, pulled Damon over to the nearest bed where she immediate-ly wrapped him in a passionate embrace. Her tongue darted, her fingers groped. Her pudenda pressed against him wantonly. Gripped by a raw, uncontrollable desire, their caresses grew wilder and fiercer. Tearing off their clothes, they ex-plored each other’s naked fevered bodies with hot mouths and searching hands. Lola and Matt, already stripped, were thrashing about on the other bed. Angelina, rolling on top of Damon, wormed her way downwards, her soft, moist lips tracing the contours of his sinewy frame. Bracketing his stiff, swollen prick with her great, big breasts, she massaged it between them. His rapture multiplied as she took it in her mouth, nuzzling it and rolling her tongue round it. Meanwhile, Matt and Lola were entwined in a torrid tangle of bare limbs. His face was buried in her crotch, his tongue lapping skilfully, while she sucked greedily, her full, heavy breast pressing against his stomach. Damon, taking the initiative, pushed Angelina on her back. His hands cupping her succulent orbs, he nibbled and kissed her hardening nipples. Moving slowly over her body, his hungry lips ranged over her waist, her navel, her hips, and her silken thighs. His fingers roamed her wet vagina. As his probing tongue found her clitoris, she uttered a low cry of delight. After a few seconds her hips began to flail wildly and she moaned: “Now, liebchen, now,” her breasts rising in anticipation. It was sheer bliss as he drove his rampant weapon into her warm, welcoming scabbard. Her legs locked around his. Her hands clawed his back. Her breathing was hot and sharp. She covered his neck and face with kisses and love bites. With each thrust of his hips she would grasp his buttocks, pressing them hard, and grinding her pelvis fiercely against him. Responding to her febrile demands, he pumped harder and faster. As his orgasm approached, his hip movements became more vigorous, his breath coming in gasps. Then a shudder went through his body and he cried out. His semen shot from him in great spurts and for several seconds a seething wave of almost unbearable pleasure engulfed him. Gradually the tumult in his loins died down. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” panted Angelina, writhing furiously beneath him. He continued lunging into her and a short time later his efforts were rewarded as her vaginal muscles began to contract. She clutched him fiercely, her nails dug into his back and her voluptuous body trembled in a paroxysm of ecstasy. Her eyes closed. Her head rolled from side to side. Her breasts heaved against him. After a while she gave a long contented sigh. Then she relaxed and, taking Damon’s face in her hands, kissed him gently, languorously. “My beautiful English liebchen, you are the best.” Meanwhile, Matt and Lola were close to a peak of sexual excitement. Astride him like some magnificent Teutonic goddess, she plunged up and down frenziedly while his hands fondled her rocking hips and swaying, pendulous breasts. At last her lover, his face contorted with passion, gave a long, low moan. Lola cried out, “Ich Komme, Ich Komme.” Her back arched and several spasms shook her body. Then she quivered and slowly sank forward on his deep chest. For several minutes the room was quiet as the lovers lay in each other’s arms, kissing and murmuring. But the women were as randy as they were uninhibited and before long’ the air was filled with sounds of carnal delight. They changed partners back and forth. They pushed the beds together and had sex in a variety of positions and combinations. As Matt would put it, they screwed their way “through the book.” It was sometime between 1.30 and 2am when the man in the next room finally lost patience and pounded on the wall. “The poor fellow is probably masturbating,” laughed Angelina. The four of them had just completed a bout of “daisy chain” sex: Angelina lay on her back, legs apart, and fellated Matt as Lola’s practised tongue caressed her love bud; Lola, in turn, was being screwed by Damon, kneeling behind her. Four orgasms -two of them almost simultaneous – in the space of a minute, were bound to cause a lot of noise. The four of them reached such an intense peak of pleasure that it left them spent and exhausted. Damon looked at his watch: 11.37. “We’ve really fallen on our feet, or to be precise, our backs,” he thought, memories of the previous night’s capers still whirling round in his head. He and Matt were sprawled in the back of Lola’s Big BMW. They were heading for Vanessa having accepted an invitation to spend a few days there. As it was a warm, sunny Saturday, Angelina said they would make a stop in Cologne to allow the boys to see some of the sights. The women were obviously used to wild bouts of late night sex. They looked ravishing. Angelina was wearing a hip-hugging, short black leather skirt and white silk blouse. Her friend’s skin-tight outfit consisted of black, wet-look trousers and a dark red sweater. After a tour of Cologne’s extensive Old Town they all went into a restaurant where they had a long, leisurely meal during which the boys consumed several beers. “We will pay”, Angelina insisted. “You are our guests.” In view of their heavy expenditure of the previous day, the young lovers did not put up too much resistance. The place was fairly crowded and, not surprisingly, the women attracted a lot of attention, particularly from a group of camera-laden Japanese, at least one of whom was clearly a high heel fetishist. As the four lovers were leaving, Lola, who was last – she had settled the bill – wiggled her bottom tantalisingly. This evoked several bawdy comments and a couple of wolf whistles from around the tables. Angelina took the wheel and they headed north out of Cologne. It was early evening. Judging by what they had told himself and Matt, Damon guessed that Lola was in the 3640 age bracket, with Angelina six or seven years older. They had said that they shared a large house and were well off; that they each had been married twice and had no children; that they were in the fashion business; that they moved in a swinging ‘free love’ set and were familiar with the sex club and orgy scene; and that although they were ‘sex mad’ neither had a live-in lover at present. They also said, laughingly, that they “liked to dominate.” The area through which they were driving was not very interesting so, after a while, Damon lay back and closed his eyes. The rich food and drink, combined with his exertions of the night before, had already sent Matt off to sleep. “Sleeping beauties,” whispered Lola, glancing in the rear view mirror. Reaching across, she squeezed Angelina’s hand. Things were working out nicely…. When Damon woke up it was dark. The car was halted at a big junction with several sets of traffic lights. It was coming up to eight o’clock. “God,” he muttered, “I must have been asleep for ages.” “Then you won’t need any sleep tonight, darling”, laughed Angelina. “We’re in Vanessa” said Matt, who had woken up a few minutes earlier. They turned left and passed up a long suburban street. Turning left again into a long tree-lined avenue, they pulled into a wide driveway. “Home,” said Angelina, as the engine died. While she put the car in the garage, the other three carried their luggage into a large, semi-detached house. It was luxuriously furnished and carpeted and spotlessly clean. ‘We have an excellent cleaning woman,” said Lola, as she laughingly showed the boys “their rooms”. After pointing out the two large, well-appointed bathrooms, she went down to join Angelina in the kitchen while they headed for a shower and a shave. There was male shaving gear and toiletries, and even men’s clothing, in some of the closets. And in a press in Matt’s room there was an assortment of sex ‘toys’ and manuals. “They must have a fantastic sex life,” he remarked to Damon as they went downstairs. After helping the women set a table and prepare a meal, they settled into elegant drawing room chairs, listening to tapes of Mozart and drinking a ‘Black Forest’ brew that, Lola said, had strong aphrodisiac qualities. Then she and Angelina went upstairs to change and shower. Forty minutes later the door opened and the boys stared in astonishment as the women advanced slowly into the room. They were sheathed in clinging, plunging knee length dresses. Made of black latex, the glossy skin-like outfits moulded and accentuated every swaying, seductive contour. Heavy make-up, expensive jewellery, seamed stockings and ‘skyscraper’ stilettos completed a picture of unrestrained raunchiness. ‘Well lover boys, how do we look?” smiled Lola. “Dazzling, fantastic,” gasped Matt. “Very, very sexy,” said Damon. As he eyed the deep cleaved, swelling expanse of bosom, the latter wondered how women could combine so much uplift and exposure without ending up topless. Maybe the secret lay in their bras. Well, he would have a chance to find out soon enough…. “Christ”, he thought, as his loins stirred, “I’ll shoot my bolt before the action starts.” It was almost 10.30 when they had cleared away the dishes from the large dining room table. Returning to the drawing room for coffee and liqueurs, they ‘paired off’ on two plush sofas. There was kissing and cuddling, but the women didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get down to the serious business of sex – although the voluptuous feel of their ripe, rubber clad bodies had the boys in a very horny state…. Suddenly Angelina stood up. “There are some terrific Danish blue movies upstairs,” she told Matt. “I’ll get them. Lola, you get the video recorder.” Lola disentangled herself from Damon and followed the older woman from the room. Watching their well-rounded buttocks pumping provocatively against the slinky material of their dresses, the slits in the back revealing several inches of seamed thigh that tapered into shapely, dark-stockinged legs and ankles and patent spindle heels, Damon called after them: “It’s not blue movies we want, it’s you.” “Soon, darling, soon,” laughed Lola from the doorway, blowing him a kiss. ‘you’re dead right,” said Matt to his friend. “With gorgeous sexpots like that, who needs porno?” Damon didn’t reply. For some reason he was feeling drowsy. Lying back, he gave himself up to salacious thoughts. A few minutes later he was asleep. So was Matt. When Damon woke up he felt he was emerging from a deep slumber. Shaking his head to try and clear it, he found that he couldn’t open his mouth. It was gagged. He tried to move his hands and feet. They were tied. Panic-stricken, he looked around. He found that on either side of him was a metal pole set in the floor at an angle. Totally naked, he was secured, in a standing, forward leaning position to the poles. The leather straps that bound him were set in grooves so that he could neither raise his feet nor lower his arms. Closing his eyes, he thought: “This must be a fuckin’ nightmare.” But when he opened them again he knew he couldn’t deceive himself as to the reality of his position: about 14 feet away, Matt was tied up in a similar position. Both of them could only move their heads and give muffled grunts. Damon’s thoughts raced. Where were Angelina and Lola? Then he remembered their fondness for leather and rubber gear and their laughing reference to ‘domination’. “Christ, they must have drugged us and carried us down here!” As they were both strong, fit women the task would not have been an impossible one. Did they intend keeping Matt and himself captive? Hardly, too risky. Did they intend torturing them? Were they going to use them as playthings in some degenerate orgy? The room was warm and well lit. Damon assumed it was a cellar because there was no sign of any windows. It contained gymnasium equipment and there were rich, heavy rugs and carpets scattered around the floor. After a while he heard a door opening behind him and the tap tap of approaching high heels. It was Angelina and Lola. In boggle eyed amazement he watched as they walked to a point about 10 feet opposite him. Then they turned and stood facing him, silent, impassive. Angelina was wearing latex bra and briefs and thigh length leather boots. Lola’s bra and briefs were leather and her legs were encased in long grip-top latex stockings. They were both wearing ‘evening gloves’ – Angelina’s in leather, Lola’s in latex. Eye masks and rowelled ‘cowboy’ spurs added a further kinky touch to the taut, jet-black, shimmering outfits. Again and again Damon’s eyes travelled over the six-inch spike heels, the vicious looking spurs, the leather and rubber encased legs that contrasted with the creamy upper thighs, the richly rounded hips and proud pudendas with their skimpy triangles of material, the big bulging breasts sitting half exposed in their cups, and the tempting, ruby lips, offset by the menacing masks. After a few minutes the women walked over towards him slowly, almost coquettishly, hips rotating with sexual promise. Their demeanour was so sinister and bizarre, yet at the same time so erotic and sensual, that Damon, despite his apprehension about their intentions, could feel his prick beginning to rise. It was soon erect and rampant as they threw themselves on his body. Kissing, licking, fondling, kneading, their soft lips, lascivious tongues and practised hands explored every naked inch. Their smooth arms coiled round him. Their luxuriant curves and long legs pressed sensually against him. The increasingly wanton embraces of two concupiscent women and the lubricious feel of rubber and leather sliding over his skin was a new and erotic sensual experience for Damon. His body tingled with pleasure, his loins grew hot with desire. He longed to return their caresses and kisses. Suddenly, after several minutes of ‘foreplay’ they stopped their explorations and stepped back. They then turned and left the room, leaving Damon with his body highly aroused and his mind highly confused. Why bondage? Why the silence? Surely they would get much more pleasure if they allowed him to respond? Their way-out gear was all right with him -in fact, he thought it looked great – but he had never given much consideration to bizarre sex. As the minutes ticked away and his loins quietened he began to grow fearful. What would they do next? So far, they had ignored Matt. The door opened again and Lola walked in. She had taken off her bra and briefs, But it was Angelina’s entrance a few seconds later that sent a shiver of fear up his spine. She had also discarded her bra and briefs, but encircling her hips was a band of rubber between three and four inches wide. Attached to the groin section was a protrusion shaped like a large erect penis. “Oh God, no,” cried Damon to himself. “The bitch is going to tuck me with that gadget.” He wanted to cry out. His brain whirled. Could this really be happening? Their bodies glistening with some kind of scented oil, his captors walked over to him slowly, sensually, the nipples he had sucked nodding with every step. Bending down, Lola took his member in her deep cleavage and began, to give him ‘mammary masturbation’. The feel of her lush satiny orbs quickly stimulated him to a fierce erection. She then dropped to her knees on a thickly piled rug and began to fellate him. But despite her oral expertise, Damon’s pleasure was largely offset by his fear of Angelina, who had moved round behind him and was insinuating two slender gloved fingers round his arse. After a few seconds she stopped and, straightening her body to its full height, began to press the rubber ‘penis’ between his buttocks. At this, his feelings of shame and humiliation turned to masculine rage. Twisting his head round he tried to butt her. Instantly pain shot through him as Lola gave his balls a sudden squeeze and wagged a warning finger at him. Then she resumed her ‘deep throat’ activity. Damon was helpless, a victim of two lust crazed dominatrixes and their deviant, devilish desires. Angelina stood back briefly in order to adjust the band around her hips. Then she stepped in close and slowly guided her weapon into him. He tried to clench his sphincter muscles but it was no use. Tears welled in his eyes and he gave a gag stifled moan as the intruder teased his anal passage. There was great, hot pressure, as the rubber seemed to reach into his very core. Angelina withdrew slowly, then thrust in again and again. To Damon’s surprise and relief, the pressure eased gradually. The ‘prick’ was not hard, rather it had the supple firmness and pliancy of a tumescent penis. And it was thickly coated with Vaseline. As the discomfort in his nether regions receded, the ineffable fusion of stimulation and pleasure became a series of rapturous sensations. There were no sound in the room except low sucking, slapping noises, and the older woman’s heavy breathing. Lola’s lips and tongue continued working skilfully on his prick, her latex sheathed legs and cruel, spurred heels gleaming and glinting in the light. Behind him, Angelina’s hips pumped steadily like a man’s, her hands clutching his chest, her balloon-like breasts, nipples erect, pushing invitingly against him. It was a bittersweet situation for Damon. Although his body throbbed with carnal delight, he longed to be able to respond, to kiss, to fondle, and to screw. Feeling his excitement mount, Angelina’s thrusts became more vigorous.. Her lips kissed and nuzzled his neck and throat. Her hands stroked his muscular trunk. Her passion-hardened breasts caressed his back. Her booted thighs slithered over his. As his orgasm approached his head lolled from side to side. Bliss. Then his entire frame shuddered., and but for the gag he would have cried out. For several seconds of exquisite agony his come gushed. Gradually, as his body relaxed, his captors ceased their ministrations. Lola stood up, Angelina withdrew the anal intruder and, unfastening the rubber band, let it fall to the floor. But their voracious sexual appetites were far from satisfied. Arms around each other, they stepped across to a rug and slowly sank down on it, kissing hungrily. Lying face to face, limbs entwined, they worked themselves into a frenzy of lesbian lust, sucking each other’s breasts, probing each other with darting tongues and slim fingers, even kissing each other’s rubber and leather clad thighs. After a few minutes Lola abruptly stood up and left the room. Angelina lay back, hands working at her crotch. When the younger woman returned she was carrying a dildo or, to be exact, two dildos – their bases joined together at a slight angle and complete with imitation testicles. Lying side by side, the two licentious Amazons inserted the dildos into their eager vaginas and began to rock back and forth, kissing and fondling with each plunge. As he watched, fascinated, this display of rank, unbridled passion, Damon’s prick began to rise again. He could see that Matt’s big organ was already as stiff as a stalk. As the worming, writhing lovers reached a peak of pleasure they began moaning softly, the creaminess of their splendid torsos contrasting with the sleek blackness of their legs and arms. Lola, her hip movements becoming more frenetic, gripped her partner fiercely. Then she gave a sudden low scream and her body shuddered and squirmed as a shattering orgasm consumed her. After a while she reached over and pushed her fingers in Angelina’s vagina as the latter continued to screw furiously on her dildo. This double stimulation was enough to push Angelina to an ecstatic climax. She cried out as a series of spasms shook her, her hands clawing at Lola’s back. Eventually she uttered a long, deep sigh and her body relaxed. Their ferocious passions seemingly spent, the two women embraced tenderly, kissing and sighing. After a while they removed the dildos and got up and left the room, without a word or a glance at their captives. “What next?” Wondered Damon, dazed at their sheer kinkiness and depraved sexuality. Yet again he asked himself: is this really happening? Why had they not bothered with his friend? Was he next? And there was the disturbing thought that he tried to push to the back of his mind: he had actually enjoyed what Angelina and Lola had done to him. Minutes passed. Almost half an hour had gone before the women returned. They had put their leather and rubber underwear back on. This time Matt was the target of their rapacious desire. The pattern was the same: passionate ‘foreplay’ followed by naked simultaneous oral and assault. The only difference was that Lola did the screwing. Although her patent court heels added several inches to her height, she had to fold a thick rug to use as a ‘platform’ in order to accommodate herself to Matt’s long-legged height. Fascinated, Damon watched the action, his prick stiffening. Matt kept his head down and his eyes closed. It was only when he ejaculated that he gave a muffled moan. Afterwards, the two women gave another torrid performance of lesbian sex. They then left. When they returned – still minus their leather and rubber bras and briefs – there was another shock for their captives’ ravaged senses: each was carrying a leather whip. Angelina moved round behind Damon; Lola did likewise behind Matt. Damon tensed, waiting for the blow. Then he heard the swish and his body jerked as the thongs seared across his back. He gave a stifled gasp. Another blow followed, and another. Both women wielded their whips expertly and cruelly. Damon could hear Matt’s low moans as Lola’s vicious thong raked his back. Through a blur of torment he found himself counting the strokes. Angelina must have been counting too because she stopped at 20. So did Lola. When they left, their victims’ backs and buttocks were a mass of flaming pain. Tears stung their eyes. Another half-hour passed before their gaolers returned. This time they did not approach the boys, but instead, walked up and down. Bare hips and breasts gyrating and swaying; stilettos clicking, the two masked mistresses of sin flaunted their bodies in front of their bewildered and brutalised captives. After three or four minutes they stopped and, while Lola paused briefly to adjust one of her long latex stockings, Angelina stepped across to a small alcove, where she took something from a shelf. Both women then walked over to Damon. “Oh no, they’re going to poison us,” he cried to himself in terror, when he saw what Angelina was holding. It was a phial of orange coloured liquid. As she held it to his lips, Lola unfastened the gag and began trying to force his jaws apart. He was determined to resist and clamped his teeth together. But his defences soon collapsed as a rubber-gloved hand grabbed his balls and a needle-like boot heel stabbed his instep. His head was jerked back and the sweet tasting juice flowed down his throat, causing him to gasp and splutter. The gag was replaced and the women then turned their attention to Matt and repeated the procedure. ‘We’re goners”, thought Damon as the sound of footsteps died away. His mind was a turmoil of images. Had it all really happened? Really? A few minutes later he began to lose consciousness. He opened his eyes as Matt shook him awake. His body felt sore and chilly, his mouth dry and uncomfortable. They were at the side of a narrow road, fully clothed. Memories of their ordeal came flooding back. Again and again and again he asked himself: did it really happen? He could see the pain in Matt’s eyes. The sun was coming up but the air was cold. A car passed. “Any idea where we are?” asked Damon, getting to his feet and heaving a sigh of relief. At least he was still alive. “I haven’t a clue” replied his friend, who was rummaging in his rucksack. Damon began to do likewise. All his gear was there including passport and money. There was also a large envelope. Inside it was a magazine size colour photograph. It was Lola and Angelina, full frontal, wearing nothing but eye masks, fishnet stockings and suspenders and ox blood high heels. There was also a 500-mark note and a hand-written message. Damon read it aloud. ‘Dear Matt and Damon, we hope you enjoyed your encounter with us as much as we did! You are such splendid performers! You are probably thinking of getting revenge. Well, we think you should know that our little ‘domination’ game was all filmed. If you try to seek us out your family and friends may receive some very interesting pictures in the post – you should not carry address books around with you, besides, we think you would have great difficulty finding us, the Ruhr is a very heavily populated region. We have left you at a spot a few miles out of Bochum. Love and kisses, Angelina and Lola.’ “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get those bloody, crazy bitches” said Matt. Damon was admiring the photo. “Angelina certainly has a colossal pair of knockers,” he remarked. “For God’s sake,” cried his friend, “we’ve been abused and humiliated by two depraved Amazons and all you can talk about is the size of their tits”. He grabbed the photo and tore it up. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at another woman again.” “All right,” replied Damon, “we’re legal men…. let’s try to look calmly and clearly at our predicament. Assuming we’re now near Bochum. Where do the two women live? Vanessa? Assuming that they had it planned in advance – they’ve probably done this sort of thing before – do you really think that they’d tell us the truth? Why did it take us so long to get there. They probably headed for Vanessa at first and then turned off for some other place… Dusseldorf, Essen, Duisberg.. there’s a cluster of cities and about 15 million people in the Ruhr area. And remember we were asleep for most of the journey, and it was dark when we arrived. And what about the blackmail threat?” “Stop putting up obstacles,” shouted Matt. “Or maybe you enjoyed that kinky sex session?” “Don’t be absurd, I didn’t enjoy it any more than you did.” But in his heart Damon knew that he was not being truthful. Matt continued ranting. At last Damon interrupted him: “I don’t know about you, but I’m heading for some town.” Despite his stinging back – the women had applied some disinfectant salve to it – he pulled on his rucksack and began walking. His friend followed, still muttering about “revenge if it kills me.” As he trudged along, Damon knew that his experiences at the hands of Lola and Angelina had wrought an irrevocable change in his physical and emotional relationship with the female sex. The exotic byways beckoned strongly
At the Mercy of Strange Women
Female Led Relationships - Femdom Erotica, Female Domination Fiction, Submissive Male Fantasies, F/m Stories
