“If it makes you feel any better slave, my butt-hole is still pretty sore too. Now, let’s get you sitting up against the headboard. Dinner’s getting cold.”
With Shanna’s help Sara worked her way upright until she was supported by that hard oak board and a number of soft pillows. Shanna sat cross-legged next to her then and spread a towel out between them like a picnic blanket.
She poured glasses of wine, set out the boxy cartons of food and un-wrapped chopsticks for both of them. Immediately they fell to with a lusty gusto worthy of such gourmands. But finally Sara started guiltily. What was wrong with her? Falling without thinking into the deferential manner of address that Shanna had indisputably earned from her and which she would use for the rest of her life, Slave Sara belatedly inq
