I'm so pleased you made the effort to visit.

It has been a long journey for you and I hope you find it worthwhile. Clever of you to invent a business trip that happened to be in Spain. No point in unnecessary expenditure.

So good to see you again.

You're the expert and I'm simply the aspiring novice. I'm desperate for you to appreciate my meagre efforts and not be disappointed. And I want to learn as much as I can from your all too brief two-day stopover.

I close the tall gates of the courtyard and reverse my small car into the shady nook by the north wall of my restored finca and take your grip from the boot. We've left your rental car at your hotel. Your face betrays no emotion - are you not as excited as I am? It is another roasting hot day outside and the dust kicks up as I lead you into the small courtyard and my keys turn in the ancient locks of my tiny cottage. It will be much cooler inside. The girl will fetch us some wine soon.

And her reward will be to learn at first hand from a master of the art. She is utterly yours for the duration of your stay.

And who would have thought that only a year ago, you and I had never met. Only a year ago, a moment like this would have been just another fantasy.

That was, until that product launch convention in Orlando, Florida, when in a quiet moment after the day's hype, I was sitting in the corner of the terrace bar, and your practised eye caught my gaze lingering too long on a cute pre-teen at the adjacent pool. Her thin and outgrown bathing costume clung wetly between her legs, highlighting her perfect young cunt and I couldn't take my eyes off it.

You watched me and sensed a like-mind. You tested me with a provocative question ("Bet she'd be a great little fuck?") rather than something more innocuous like "Give her a few years and she'll be a catch") and you instantly saw through my embarrassed, flustered reply. Like a courting couple, we spent the evening in each other's company, sounding each other out: surf 'n' turf and too many beers, oblique questions, smutty comments and hints bouncing back and forth until we each were sure we had met a genuine soulmate. I don't know why, but we clicked, and you trusted me, and I'm so glad you did.

But I really wasn't prepared for your proposition at the end of the convention. Was it too meant as a test? You seemed to have no doubt that I would agree to it.

I've no regrets that I did so: it was the most exciting, thrilling and incredible thing I had ever done until then.

I admit I still had my doubts when you checked us into that downbeat motel off the Interstate. I was of course reticent - I had had to invent some pretty strong reason for postponing my return home to Spain for a few days, and I have to say that in all honesty, I was beginning to wonder if some of your graphic tales weren't just bull, and that I was going to be conned or worse.

But then you simply took a drive into a run-down part of town and lifted her, with me gawping open-mouthed in the passenger seat. The way you made the little Cuban vanish from her neighbourhood was a lesson in itself: such confidence, so neatly executed. No trace left.

Now I realise that you had it planned all along, of course, and my being there was merely a coincidence.

No matter: what a fantastic couple of nights we had with her in that lonely, dingy, virtually empty motel! I can still picture her terrified, tearful face looking up at me, and finding no sympathy or mercy in my stony reproach, returning miserably again to my crotch, to resume her first, inexpert attempt at fellatio. I can recall your triumphant grin a couple of hours earlier, as your hands curled around her waist, pulling her towards you whilst you pumped viciously between her skinny legs, spread wide, and the way you hollered a rebel yell when you came inside her eleven-year-old cunt for the second or third time that night.

You are my inspiration.

Without you, I would never have dreamt of buying this remote old smallholding, a kilometre from the nearest village, and turning it into my retreat, the perfect place in which to entertain a young visitor. No self-respecting Spaniard would have considered it, preferring as we do the comforts of a modern, suburban home. But I doubt that my neighbours back home in Barcelona would have been as deaf to the screams and cries of a young girl's pain as are the ancient olive trees that all but submerge my rural oasis. With its thick stone walls and heavy shutters and doors, it makes a good prison. The estate agent was naturally delighted to take my cash, assuming that once I had restored the place, I would sell it on to the mad English, who seem to like such solitude. Thank goodness she had no idea of my real intentions.

The property came with a useful accessory. When the previous owner died, his ancient Alsatian cross refused to leave and I adopted it, giving it the dilapidated woodshed for a home and the run of the small yard. The girl was terrified of it and it is a great deterrent to any unwelcome callers. Shame it is a bitch, though: I would have been interested to see her with a dog humping her cunt and slobbering over her perfect young body.

No, from the moment my flight home from Orlando was airborne, I settled back into the seat with my eyes closed, my crotch still glowing from the forty-eight hour fuckfest to which you had so generously invited me, and I began to imagine how I could do the same.

I had to have more of the same. To be like you.

I must remember to ask you what you did with tiny Juanita. Did you stay there longer, exploring her sinewy little body further, subjecting her to yet more devious cocktails of pain and pleasure? Did you share her with anyone else, or perhaps take her back home and have been fucking her senseless ever since?

Or did you sell her on, maybe delivering her into a life of prostitution? You did say you had all sorts of lowlife contacts. I wonder what a slightly used eleven-year-old is worth?

I open the finca's door and as soon as our eyes adjust to the dimness inside the main room, you get your first chance to see my own little captive. I watch you, for signs of approval.

I snap my fingers. And to my relief, she obeys, scurrying across to the centre of the flagstone floor and curtseying, exactly as I had trained her for the past six weeks. She stares solemnly down at her feet, as you stand before her, looking up and down her new 'school uniform': soft deck shoes and white ankle socks, knee-length, pleated grey skirt, and flimsy, cheap white polo shirt. Not unlike the outfit she was wearing when I bundled her into the back of my car as she hurried to school up the narrow lane outside her own village, many kilometres from here, in a different district and another province. Yes, I remembered what you said about making the most of boundaries between police forces to help blur any trail.

After so many years of daydreaming and girl-watching, I already knew precisely what girl I wanted.

Wander around any Spanish town on a warm Friday evening and you will be surrounded by wall-to-wall young pussy, all dressed to impress, the few summer clothes they wear making it no hardship to discern their true figures: I enjoy the pre-teens especially, flat-chested and clinging to their mothers, covertly watching their seniors and affecting the way the older girls walk and carry themselves. I also like fourteen year olds for their gawkiness and their neat, shapely little tits, which just beg to be abused, but I ruled out an older girl (this time), in case she proved to be too strong-willed.

And so I found a compromise and selected this little sweetie, Maria, who is about twelve-and-a-half years old. She is just how I prefer girls of her age: very slim, still with a little girl's narrow hips and back and skinny, muscular legs. She has a gorgeous hard tummy and tiny but still properly-shaped breasts (not the podgy little cones of puppy fat that many girls of her age still possess). Hers are upstanding and firm and of a size that would more or less justify the wearing of a first bra beneath her Sunday best (which she told me, her mother had recently permitted her). Her skin is divine, a little dark, as belies her rural upbringing, but so smooth and unblemished, with no trace of the acne that bedevils many of the foreign girls who come to Spain on holiday, with their unhealthy diets and fixation with cosmetics.

To my delight, when I had brought her to the finca and disposed of her clothes, I discovered that she possessed not a single pubic hair. No need to shave or pluck her delicious little pussy.

I feel rather proud of her, as she stands awkwardly before you.

You have raised her face up now, cupping her neat little chin in your hand. Her big, round eyes are dull and she is so clearly wary of you. I've not told her very much, informing her only that I would be having a guest to stay, an honoured guest from the USA, and that if she was a good girl, he too might require her to pleasure him.

You examine her tooled leather collar, and weigh the long chain in your hand. Although the finca is very secure, I always attach her by it her to one of the wall-rings when I am away. Like you, I have to travel extensively and sometimes I have to leave her alone for three or even four days, during which time she needs to be able to move about the cottage, but obviously not venture outside. I've trained the dog to disapprove of anything like that. It's no problem - she has the benefit of power, water and a modest food ration (but I permit her no clothes in my absence, of course) and her chain only just allows her to reach the tiny shower room and lavatory, and the kitchenette. I leave the one bedroom locked - it is where I keep the valuable electronics and the like, so that she spends most of her time in the main room, surrounded by the reminders of her existence here: the ropes, straps, photographic lighting and large mattress on its dais.

How rude of me! You can't get to know her if she's still chained up. I hand you the key to the padlock at her throat and you let the fine steel links drop to the floor.

Later I'll show you the tiny barn where I prefer to discipline her: I'm quite pleased with it - a nice, scary place, for the victim at least.

You are looking expressionlessly into her wide, sad eyes. Do you like her? Have I selected her well?

I watch as you reach down and slowly start to furl up her skirt, your eyes never leaving hers, your hands deftly gathering the hem and patiently raising it, past her knees, up her firm, brown thighs. Her ears redden in embarrassment as the roll of material gathers about her waist, exposing her skin-tight little white panties. You place your hand over her crotch and grip the clearly defined bulge of her pubis. She flinches as you squeeze her, nervously transfixed by your icy stare. Your strong fingers press the flimsy fabric between her labia, and the tip of your finger curls and forces the cotton to chafe uncomfortably the opening of her vagina, forcing her up on to the very tips of her toes.

And then you suddenly pick her up by her waist and throw her backwards on to the mattress. I am taken aback, and so most certainly is she.

You practically tear off her panties, lifting up her legs and pushing her back against the mattress. You bend her double, pushing her ankles down each side of her head. Her skirt falls upwards to her chest, and her rump is in the air. Her lovely cunt is fully displayed, as is her tight, puckered anus, proffered to you between her splayed buttocks.

In an instant, you unfasten and drop your own pants and moments later, you have shoved her legs wide apart are guiding your hard cock towards her groin. You locate her pussy. Without hesitation, you force your way inside her.

She cries out as you lunge forward, but now you are half buried in her tight, dry little cunt. No warning, no foreplay - you intend this to be uncomfortable for her. Just a couple of tentative pokes to ensure you've successfully penetrated her, then with a cruel snap of your hips, you sink your entire length rasping into her unprepared young cunny.

In amazement, I watch you rape her, with deep, violent thrusts that make her whimper and gasp. A tear glistens on her cheek.

You adjust your position and smack her hard on the outside of her thighs until her body relaxes to accommodate you, and then you are lying right on top of her, pulling her folded frame beneath your body, crushing her whilst you pump into her with long, measured strokes.

Like an athlete, you pace yourself. She is tiring. Her muscles are less tense. She offers no resistance. Her grunting is quieter.

You raise yourself up to release her legs and they wave about either side of your hips as you quicken, fucking her harder and even deeper. Her slim brown body recoils from your manic onslaught. I recall that crazy second night back in the motel in Florida, when you woke the young Cuban, Juanita, from a deep sleep in much the same way, her tiny body flailing like a rag doll as you raped her so hard she eventually passed out, and you yelled at me to bring her round with a wet flannel so that she would be awake when you came once more inside her.

Maria is completely silent now, head back, mouth open and breathing deeply, her body forced by your weight into the mattress. Her arms and legs bounce around as you make a final frenzied burst, fucking her with all your strength until you climax into her, arching your back, prolonging the moment of ecstasy and pulling her hard against you and shaking her until you have delivered every last drop deep inside her belly.

I am so stunned by what you have done, that I realise I am still holding your grip!

What now? You climb off but wheel Maria round, pulling at her carefully plaited ponytails and guiding her head into your groin, where she has no option but to take your semi-erect penis between her lips, to lick and suck it clean of cum.

What must she be thinking? What can she imagine is going to happen to her next?

Her task completed, you harshly push her away by her forehead, so that she tumbles back on to the mattress, to be ignored, of no further consequence: she has served her purpose for now. You don't even bother to look at her.

At last you speak. Turning to me, you smile.

"Very nice little cunt, Tomas," you drawl in English, "I think we'll have a mighty fine time with her."

Praise indeed. You never cease to impress me.

Remember that first night in the middle of nowhere, Florida, after we had stripped the little Cuban girl of her cheap cotton vest and shorts, and deflowered her comprehensively in all three orifices? When you carried her out into the woods behind the hotel and strung her up to a branch using just the cord from the window blinds? I had no idea how effective it would be, suspending her on tiptoe just by her thumbs. How she wailed! I was so afraid someone might hear, especially when you made her hold one leg horizontal, lashing her poor, abused little cunt with your belt each time she tired and let it droop. I can still picture the drool of blood-marbled semen oozing from her cunt and anus and creeping down the inside of her tender red thigh. It was fantastic - all night I just kept getting hard and having to cum: in her soft mouth, in her puffy, wet pussy, inside her raw, torn little backside. Never had I managed to ejaculate so much so frequently as I did that first nig ht.

Yes, it is all down to you. You were the catalyst that made this possible.

Sure, I had been watching young girls for years, but never had I dared go any further. Well OK, I suppose I had been making a half-baked and chaotic attempt to 'groom' the ten-year-old daughter of a neighbour in Barcelona for a while. She was now so used to me, that it was no problem to get away with a quick, subtle grope of her knickers or tits during a game of chase, and she was perfectly happy to sit innocently on my balcony in her tiny bikini, enjoying my cold drinks whilst I surreptitiously enjoyed looking at her body. I had some vague notion of offering to babysit her, as a prelude to what, I don't really know, but since the opportunity had never arisen, I'd never found an outlet for my latent desires. So for sex, I have been making do with my occasional surrogate - a wacky Japanese student at Uni in Barcelona, with a short, slim, hard body and willingness to experiment, who had no idea of the true reason I fancied her in preference to busty, pneumatic Spanish girls .

Until I met you, I had never expected that I would ever actually get to fuck a little girl.

Until you stood aside and invited me to follow your lead and rape that cowering, naked young Cuban girl, still bathed in sweat from the ordeal of her first fuck in that stuffy motel room. My heart pounding, I forced my erection into her impossibly small pussy. She was already exhausted, scared rigid, and powerless to resist my insistent cock. I looked down at her: her legs limply akimbo, her immature young pussy swollen and still glistening with blood and your semen. And I knew there was no going back.

I can't tell you quite how much I enjoyed it. It was on a level that surpasses the mere physical pleasure.

I had no conception of just how delicious it would feel to have that tiny, trembling little body crushed beneath mine, my hips and stomach sliding over her, skin slick with sweat. How fantastic it felt, able to force my aching cock into that slippery little hole again and again, so tight and yet so utterly accessible. To feel the tip of my cock slamming against her cervix, making her squeal and writhe yet more. To look down at her tear-streaked face, twisting in shock and pain and humiliation, revelling in her misery at her total domination by the two men who held her captive and who were using her so cruelly, so mercilessly. Fucking my young Jap had nothing on screwing this terrified eleven-year-old. I had no inkling of the tremendous rush I would feel being in total control over her skinny little body, of knowing I could do anything I wanted with her, and that anything I did would be a new and frightening experience for her.

I was unprepared for the consuming thrill of it all, the indescribable buzz of controlling her, being the arbiter of whether she would feel pleasure or pain.

Pain.

That was an eye-opener, so to speak: I had absolutely no idea how much I would enjoy inflicting pain. Me a sadist? I suppose I must be.

Straight sex with little girls I had frequently tried to imagine of course, but hurting one for kicks had never featured in my list of fantasies.

Yet once you had shown me the way, I was irreversibly hooked. Once I had sampled the intense satisfaction of administering harsh punishment to a helpless little cunt. And the prolonged spanking of wriggling little buttocks until they were red raw. Or the calculating torment of immature little nipples. A year ago, I would have proclaimed such things obscene or perverse. But that was before you made it possible to experience the consummate delight of punishing poor little Juanita. Her tears and pathetic pleading just made me want more: I wanted to bind her, whip her, pinch and stretch her. I willingly accepted from you the thin greenstick branch you plucked from the copse behind the motel, and I struggled to retain my self-control to restrain myself from beating her deserving young bottom so hard that the blood flowed from the welts.

You excuse yourself and head to the compact bathroom to freshen up. Of course. Sorry, my mind was wandering.

I order Maria to take your holdall through to the bedroom - as my guest, you naturally have my room. She scurries off, taking a wide berth to avoid passing too close to you.

That was an amazing performance, how you established your mastery over her so instantly: without any hint of what you intended to do, before I had even had time to introduce her, you just threw her down and raped her. Then you discarded her with such incredible disdain that she would be left in no doubt that she is worthless, no more than a receptacle for your semen, to be discarded when she has been used.

It took me nearly two weeks to break her spirit.

And a further fortnight to reduce her to the passive automaton I yearned to create. I'd listened to your tales, of girls you'd trained and used, and I was intrigued. I had to emulate you.

"Keep 'em guessing," you'd said. "Never be predictable."

"Carrot and stick."

"Raise hopes but always dash them."

"Use praise and reward sparingly."

As best I can, I've followed your advice, tried to copy your techniques. She now obeys me unquestioningly. Increasingly, she offers herself spontaneously, craving my approval. She finds solace when we kiss, no longer pulling away as soon as she can. And sometimes she seems genuinely happy when she knows she has satisfied me, nuzzling her head against my chest and finding comfort in any sign of affection I show her, prolonging such moments as much as she can.

Will you think I've done well with her?

There is so much more I want you to tell me. As I wait for you to complete your shower, Maria hovers silently in the corner, having hastily cleaned herself up in the kitchen and dressed now as I had instructed her in just a short linen apron and leather collar and cuffs. She is poised to fill our glasses with my favourite rioja.

I glimpse the lovely dimples at the sides of her buttocks and immediately I have a great desire to haul her over my knee and smack her taut young bottom. But I've hardly touched her for a week, just an occasional light spanking: I wanted her body unmarked for your arrival - a blank canvas on which you can practise your art.

I ponder on what I am so desperate to learn from you. What are the pharmaceuticals you use to subdue a girl, or to enhance the feelings in her body? I want to know about the 'little helpers' you alluded to, when you showed me the basics on the tiny Hispanic girl. You made it seem so easy then, using just a few bits and pieces improvised from things bought from a nearby hardware store, making her suffer for hours in the heat of the Florida night until she was hoarse with begging to be fucked, as an alternative to the constant discomfort and pain. Tell me more about these items or gadgets you have accumulated over time.

Soon I want to show off my own efforts, to let you see the techniques I have devised. But mostly, I want to witness you giving my little Maria the benefits of your years of experience.

Will you torment her delicate anus, like you did thoroughly with the little girl in Saigon, or maybe super-sensitise her clitoris and keep her on the brink of climax for hours, as you said you did to the pageant princess in Seattle? I rather hope you'll show me how to bind her properly with ropes, Japanese style, so that we can simultaneously enter her backside and cunt without relying on her cooperation.

The girl is all too aware that something is about to happen. Her mouth is dry. She leans against the cool stone wall for support.

Her hand shakes as she pours your wine. The towelling sheet you wrapped yourself in after your shower has fallen open (or was it deliberate?) and your thickening erection draws her attention. I note with glee the trepidation in her eyes as she glances quickly at you, before retreating to her corner. She is frightened. Recently she seemed to have found some inner peace, to have reconciled herself to her fate, rationalising her role as my sex slave, perhaps hoping that through acquiescence, she will eventually curry sufficient favour with me to be released. We shall see.

But your arrival has changed that. She is unnerved. Now there are two men to serve. And one is an unknown quantity. Older, more dangerous.

We speak English as we sip the wine and get down to business. The girl understands a little from her schooling, and every now and then, she catches a word or phrase from our conversation and her face loses a bit more colour, as she anticipates what we shall be doing to her all too soon. In my preparations for your visit have tried to emulate your own admirable attention to detail. I wanted to reciprocate the bonus I had in Orlando, in the way the Cuban girl was able to appreciate the Spanish obscenities I grunted as I fucked her raw little backside and forced my cock into her gagging throat. So I've made Maria learn a small range of earthy English words and phrases, quite unlike anything she would have been taught at school. I wanted her to be able to eavesdrop our animated conversation, and use her imagination, and to have a chance of understanding any instructions you might wish to give her.

Her obvious trepidation arouses me and I have to adjust my trousers to accommodate my own erection. Something you say reminds me of the tiny Juanita, being pounded simultaneously by our two hard, powerful cocks, invading her immature little cunt and mouth and arse at will. I can't wait to feel the sweat cooling on Maria's soft, young skin, damp from fear as much as the heat of this early autumn night.

I am so looking forward to seeing you perform your magic again.

You drain your wine and get up to enter the bedroom, no longer bothering with the towel. Maria takes advantage of your absence, stepping hurriedly forward to refill your glass. Crafty. I point to my crotch and she knows what to do, crouching between my knees to release the quivering hardness of my cock. She kneels and lowers her face towards it, then caresses the tip with the butterfly touch of her lips. My pre-cum seeps out, she laps it up. She has become quite proficient at oral sex in her weeks here. Her mouth is moving slowly up and down my shaft when you return to you chair. You watch Maria, smiling wickedly and wink at me again. She tries to see what you are doing, and sees the mysterious cloth bundle you've placed on the small table before you.

I hold her head still and tell her to stand.

You terrify her. She is pale, and keeps shooting glances between your face, your swollen cock and the cloth roll on the table.

I raise my eyebrows to you - you have control.

You smile at her with a subtle malevolence, crooking your finger and beckoning her to approach.

Slowly, suspiciously, she steps towards you. Her small, firm breasts are heaving, as her nerves tighten and she presents herself before you. She stands for a minute, two maybe, but you say and do nothing, sipping the wine and staring straight at her.

It is wonderful to see you build the tension. She is visibly shaking now and closes her eyes when you put down your glass and reach out towards her. You lower your hands lightly on her bare hips, gently pulling her closer until her feet are touching your chair. You twitch your hard cock at her. Waiting until she opens her eyes again, you slide your hands back behind her waist, deliberately, and then tug apart the bowknot of her apron. The lace-trimmed rectangle of cotton drops to the floor. The prominent bulge of her smooth little pussy is just inches from your face. Deftly, you guide her hips closer yet, lean towards her and stroke the tip of your tongue very, very slowly up the full length of her pussy cleft, from top to bottom.

Her head is still, her body tense. You fingers trace a line around her waist, then descend to her pubis, alighting on her labia and softly easing them apart to reveal the glossy silkiness of her inner flesh. You gently prise the folds of her pussy wider open and explore the little pink folds and recesses with your fingertips. Once more you put your mouth against her, the tip of your tongue tenderly lifting the hood of flesh over her clitoris and seeking the smooth, firm little protrusion concealed below. Your tongue toys with her most sensitive of places, brushing over and around it, then slipping down inside her inner labia, to find and probe the tight aperture of her vagina. All the time, your saliva moistens and lubricates her cunny. You press the top of your tongue strongly over her clit. She staggers slightly and shuffles to regain her balance. Involuntarily she places her feet further apart, making her pussy more accessible.

Your hands creep imperceptibly around her buttocks and pull them apart. You moisten your index finger and let it seek the puckered dimple of her anus, resting over it and applying a light yet irresistible pressure, which eventually succeeds. As the dark ring succumbs to the force and dilates, the finger slips inside, a fraction at a time, until the first knuckle disappears.

You use your additional grip to ease her nearer, to purse your lips around her clitoral hood and suck her, at the same time pressing your tongue hard over the clit itself. She shivers.

It is as if she can sense your power. She stands so obediently; hands flopped limply at her side. She breathes in sharply and resumes nibbling at her lower lip.

Patiently, silently, you hold her pussy to your face, licking and nuzzling and suckling, whilst your finger maintains a slow rhythm in and out of her rectum. Once more her knees buckle and when you steady her, she unknowingly thrusts her crotch closer towards you.

Your tongue makes more frequent forays down from her clitoris, to probe her vagina. At last you taste her own wetness. She does not usually get wet very readily and so you have performed especially well to make her excrete so quickly.

Then suddenly you lift your head, sit back and wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, as if to signify 'that's all'. She was unable to prevent a brief frown of frustration from flashing across her brow. Bravo! An object lesson in torment and humiliation, allowing herself to become aroused and then spitefully denied any chance of orgasm. She saw our knowing smirks and was cross with herself for being so easily taunted. I doubt that this will be the only time tonight, when you use her own pubescent sexuality to torment her.

Now you wrap you hand around the leather cuff around her wrist, firmly reminding her that you are in control. Her chest rises and falls in steady breaths as she recovers from her curtailed stimulation, the trim brown nipples crowning her pert little tits stiff and taut. Her pussy remains loosely open, the inner labia still slightly swollen and protruding. All of it is wet with your spit and her juices.

My heart skips a beat as you nod at me and say,

"I think you need to show me your barn now, Tomas. It's time to give little Maria here a lesson she'll never forget."

You unfasten the cloth roll and dramatically unfurl it over the polished wood, revealing the contents, each neatly held in place by short strips of elastic. The Master's toolkit! The 'little devices' you've accumulated over a long career of sexually tormenting small girls. Some are familiar, others intriguing. I recognise a gleaming chrome-plated speculum and some wicked screw clamps. There is something with wires attached and a pack of ECG pads. There's a battered Tupperware box containing what might be a dildo or vibrator and presumably a range of heads for it. But I have no idea what some of this stuff is, let alone how one would use it. I can already picture you employing some of these ingenious instruments on my sweet twelve-year-old, strapped helplessly on the bench in the adjacent room. I can imagine her screams echoing around the thick, stone walls.

In answer to my unspoken question, you remark, "One big advantage of being a in my business is that airport security doesn't tend to question the tools of your trade."

I note the sheer horror in Maria's eyes as she sees what you have brought with you: my cock is aching with anticipation. I peel off my clothes. My stomach is tight - in a few moments, your masterclass will begin. Maria's tears will flow long into the night, as she finds out exactly what it means to be your fucktoy.

You and I exchange glances.

Now.

As one, we take hold of her arms. You grip her chin and press your lips over hers, insinuating your tongue deep into her mouth. You've put the roll of toys under your other arm. She goes rigid. I move behind her and squeeze my erection into the valley of her buttocks, cupping my hands over her breasts and pulling her against me.

"Do you deserve to be punished, Maria?" I murmur into her ear.

As soon as you release her from your kiss, she hurries to give me the expected response, "Yes, please punish me, Sir."

Holding her each side, above the elbow, we half-lead, half-carry her to the door and out across the yard to the old barn. The dog growls and scratches at the frame when we pass her woodshed. I pull back the heavy door and you propel her inside. I look at you and you grin back.

Did you notice how we both unconsciously licked our lips in anticipation just then, at the very same moment?

We are indeed kindred spirits...