That was the idea the glyph on her chest was trying to convey. It was also an instruction. They were telling her to enjoy! Nothing wrong can happen if you trust and are trusted! Maybe that was the problem with Maggie. Maybe Maggie didn’t let herself enjoy what was happening. ‘Fuck!! Oowwww!’ at least that’s what she tried to say through the gag. Another orgasm interrupted. Trust didn’t protect her ass from pain. She tried thrashing in the stocks, but someone had taken their hand away for a moment again, no sensation on her clit. She could feel the phallus moving back and forth, but as she rocked, it felt like it was sinking deeper towards her cervix so she stopped. The last time she hit her cervix with a dildo it hurt like hell. All she could do was to wait in frustration and anger. Oh! Bill’s hand was back working it’s magic. It had to be Bill. No, not quite the same as before. Much more fumbling. The same basic technique, but none of the artistry. How could that be? Still she was. After enjoying the taste for another moment or two she sighed. ‘That’s Clint. I forgot that he was picking me up to go to the airport.’ She raced around the room as I tried to figure out how she could go from sex machine to business – covert business – in the course of five seconds. I was still pretty high from the orgasm and wasn’t sure I could even move. Just watching her race around the room made me a little dizzy. ‘Each time we part,’ she said to me in her frenzy, ‘I always feel like I have a million things I want to talk to you about.’ What was so strange was that I was thinking the same thing. Saying goodbye to her was always so hard. With all that was going on, with both our work lives overlapping our personal lives, it was much more difficult. Before I knew it she was dressed for the cold weather in a mostly black outfit, had her pre-packed black leather bag on her shoulder, her black boots on her feet, and she was kissing me good-bye. ‘If anyone at work asks, just say that.
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