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“You get a slave for a week, to do with what you wish. Anything!”“Done!”I embraced her, kissing her soft lips. My nipples were hard, painfully so. She pushed the dress off my shoulders, my breasts fully exposed. She kissed my nipples. She was good, knew what she was doing. Chris stood near the telly, able to view the scene unfolding before his eyes, no doubt processing the information that he was now impotent. Her husband, Sean watched from the arm of the sofa, his erection there for all to see, tented in his trousers. My dress dropped to the floor, tangled in my heels. “Slave,” I called. “Take my dress, and pull my panties off,” I commanded.He hurried over, anxious to serve. He pulled them down, my silk micro knickers. He hooked them over my heels, and was about to turn away.“Smell them,” Claire told him. “Breath in her pussy aroma, smell her wetness.” He looked, waiting for me to give him permission. I nodded, and he held them to his nose. “Fuck it didn’t even twitch!” Claire.

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