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"I suppose you expect something for that, do you?"
I asked politely.
"Indeed I do, Cherie," he responded; that ridiculous Clouseauesque
tone grating my nerves.
"Very well, Monsieur," I said, and rubbed his crotch with
my gloved hand. As that disgusting smile I was so very unfond of crossed
his face, I grabbed hold of his balls, and snarling, whispered, "Touch
me again and my Master won't be so nice as just to grab them. Consider
yourself warned, Filthy American!"
I smiled inwardly as he nodded, his eyes huge with shock and fear, his
breath raspy and broken from the pain. I love men! You always know their
weak spot. He was fairly silent toward me for the rest of the evening,
though I could feel his eyes on my chest and could see his little mind
just working on his revenge. I shook my head everytime I noticed. Master
David noticed too from a few places away.
During salad, Anna-Maria spilled wine down the front of her gown.
