So, honor among slaves. Or maids. We were dressed similarly, as lower rung house servants in simple gray cotton dresses with small, pillbox, lacy white caps and aprons, but without panties. Like most of the women there Fay’s hair was swept up, while mine still needed several days, if not weeks, of growth to match. Together we made a bit of an odd couple, Fay with her grace and warmth, yet with a bit of naughtiness just under the surface, always so at ease amidst the other women who were either tied up, suspended, or in the process of being whipped. As for me, I gaped a lot with a dropped jaw at all the open, blatant sexuality.
“It’ll get easier,” she told me, during one of our mutual runs. “Not boring though. It’s never boring around here. Not with all the p***y fires that burn inside you
