His body, all six feet plus of it, was trim. He wore a pair of khaki trousers and a blue shirt, with a burgundy tie. He was carrying a briefcase."Hi,"...he said to Bree, who was standing there gaping at him. "I'm Professor Cary Gordon. You'd be Miss Spencer, the photographer, right?"Bree recovered quickly. "Yes, I'm Bree Spencer. We'll do this whenever you're ready, Professor Gordon."He loosened his tie a bit. "Please, call me Cary. After all, you're about to know every-thing else, right?"Bree. Great roars oflaughter filled the stable as time and time again her tongue slid over the darkpatch?s of dug, she couldn?t stop, she daren?t, but they soon tired of it andpicked her up, ?Better clean you up, Mrs fucking totty is going to be spendinga lot of time in nice clean sheets, well clean, all apart from the cum stains,your cum stains, upstairs, its bath time.? Monday Night. They draggedthe bruised and battered woman from the stables, she was completely broken; shehad never been treated. More

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