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Solo quería una disculpa.- Recuerda nuestro contrato. Solo obedece. Túmbate boca abajo.Abro la nevera, cojo una botella de agua bien fría y la hago rodar por tu espalda. La deslizo hasta tu culo rojo de los azotes y te calma el calor que sientes.- Ponte otra vez de rodillas en el suelo.Me bajo los pantalones, me siento delante tuyo y recuesto mi espalda. Sabes que tienes que hacer.Me miras y piensas: “ya es hora de que me pidas eso. Es una de las cosas de sexo que mas placer me dan,y por lo que me han contado lo hago muy bien, no tengo claro si por que me gusta lo hago muy bien o lo hago muy bien por que me gusta”.Suena un móvil.- Joder, puto teléfono. ¿Quien será? Debí apagarlo Mag. ¿Puedo cogerlo?Ves el nombre de tu marido en la pantalla y lo coges.- Hola cari, te iba a llamar ahora mismo. Bien estoy bien, ya te llamare que voy a pagar en el super.Me incorporo, sentado. Te miro hablar y no doy crédito que hayas parado y estés hablando. Me acerco a ti y meto dos dedos en tu coño.-. She didn’t understand anything! Hannah’s evening was complete. She’d ruined something fine, clean, and genuinely wholesome. This was not what Gwyneth wanted. Fletcher wouldn’t like this. She knew it would affect her at work. Sorrel didn’t know what to say. Marion had rejected her. She was losing something here, and couldn’t figure out what or how much. She needed help, ‘Marion let’s go.’ Marion was confused. If her father did do what Hannah said, then Sorrel must be really awful. But if Sorrel was so awful why was everybody at home being so nice to her? She wanted to hit the woman standing beside her. She wanted to hug and hold her too. She wanted to cry. She wanted her mother. Once they got in the car Marion turned on Sorrel, ‘OK, I want to know everything.’ Sorrel kept her eyes on the road, ‘Wait till we get home.’ ‘No tell me now.’ ‘Ask your father.’ ‘No, you tell me.’ Sorrel looked down at the ring on her pinkie. She felt the necklace around her neck, ‘I have a hunch your father.
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Everything, in fact, except a family or friends. For as long as she could remember, she’d lived in this house with Lady Alger and her servants. She’d grown up here and it was all she knew. She never left the house and grounds, it was her whole world. Lady Alger had friends with children, of course, and they would come to visit, but they almost never spoke to her. Neither did the servants, save for her own maid, Grace. The reason, as it was explained to her, was because she was dark skinned, a color that was a lovely, creamy caramel, but so different from the pale peaches and cream color of Lady Alger’s skin, and in fact, everyone else she had ever met. Lady Alger was not her mother, but her caretaker and tutor. The few times the girl had broached the subject of her origins, or why she was here, Lady Alger was cool and emotionless as she would answer. ‘You are here to learn the lessons of comportment, and the habits and schoolings of a proper Lady. You are to be my charge until you.

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