She lets me sleep in and puts on her gardening clothes as quietly as possible. I usually wake up when I hear her humming to herself while she’s pull...ng weeds and spraying leaves. That Saturday she was out in the garden by the time I woke up. I could hear her singing to herself through the window as I pulled on my bathrobe. I smelled the coffee as soon as I walked into the kitchen. When I sat down at the counter I saw why she’d woken up early: she had set out a chocolate croissant with a fresh. "Stay." I did. I felt the burning of my skin, but now, also, my pussy throbbing and my hard nipples pressing against the table. "Do you want to tell me something, little one?" "No, Sir." "I think you do. Tell me about your pussy." I was blushing. I couldn't admit that his beating had aroused me. "My… my…" I stammered helplessly. "I am counting to three, and if you haven’t said it by then, it’s an extra five for you. One." "My pussy is wet, Sir," I said meekly. "And what does. More

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