When I’d been in the service of my brother-in-law for three years and my sister for a two I was to all purposes their property. I was their sex slave and most certainly their “whore” and at the same time I was still a mother of two teenagers as well as a successful senior manager with a three-figure salary. I was also still married but the question was and I still had to ask myself, was I a wife as well? The three years I’d been the property to Sir and Mistress nothing had changed with my husband who if anything at times he was even more distant from me. The reason I’d agreed to submit to my sister and her husband was to get back being a wife as well as my own husbands slave and whore. So far it hadn’t happened and I couldn’t see when it would either. I wanted that more than anything I wanted it when I’d agreed and I still wanted it I was willing to do anything to make it so and now I was even more willing I wanted it to be so and now after two years I was even more desperate and even more willing to submit because of that very fact.
If I had to be a whore, I’d be a whore, sex with strangers wasn’t as bad as being beaten black and blue with a leather belt on a daily basis. It had occurred to my “Pimp” that a whore covered in bruises wasn’t an attractive proposition for the vast majority of punters. On refection that period wasn’t at all that bad for me once you take into account I was a prostitute I mean I was only getting fucked. Admittedly it was by strangers some of who were in fact gross well let’s face it most were but apart from the odd hard slap on the backside and the even less common a spanking the oddest thing I’d been asked to do was masturbate with a cucumber while some old man wanked and told what a naughty girl I was.
The added income for my Pimp meant that they were able to move yet again to an even larger house this time. A good seven miles from us and even further into the countryside and was very secluded. Alison wasn’t that keen to move and was even less eager to move further into the countryside as she was now an avid “townie” and would have really liked to move to the area we lived in but I’d have to whore a lot more before she reached that goal.
The routine was always the same and had only changed slightly I’d go straight to see Sir after work every day and hand over his money. He found them (the clients) via our old friend Rendezvous’ the contact magazine, which by that time had gone online. He’d also built up a client base from repeat clients as well some I saw as often as once a week. The routine of me taking the money to him and waiting for Mistress to arrive home to see if she wanted me to “pleasure her” which she often did after arriving home from her office. This day I knew she was at my house as she had something planned with my daughter and her horse.
I was told to get naked which I did was he took my bag counted the money and the used condoms which he also had me bring to him. Once naked he told me to present myself for fucking on the floor and to get low. This was a command I’d heard before and it filled me with dread and I was right to be worried, Sir had bought a dog. The dog was a cross between a Doberman and a Pointer it had long legs and a big cock which as soon as it saw me raised his “Pink” almost straight away. Sniffing around me he didn’t wait to be told he just mounted me and tried to get inside me. Sir moved to the side of me and reached between the dog and me and pulled my cunt open and fed him in. The fucking lasted well over an hour before Ross (the dog’s name) had grown tired and lost interest. Sir was elated having laid out over £1,000 on Ross who was just over two-years-old.
Stamina isn’t a problem for K-9’s and one this age was ready for another performance after another hour but although Sir had other things on his mind and I was kept naked. The dog was tied up and sat there panting more and more as he as his interests grew and got more visible. I’d been there five hours and naked for all but a few seconds of that time. When Mistress arrived she didn’t even speak to me or acknowledge the fact I was there, although she did have a conversation about me with Sir after which she stepped out of her trousers and knickers and spread herself in her customary position legs draped over the arms of her favourite armchair, pointing to the floor in front of her she demanded “Lick me, whore.”
As I went to work on her I was nervous for some reason, it wasn’t usual for her to berate me nor hold me by the hair as I licked her cunt and in fact, I enjoyed both and she knew it. As Mistress pulled at my hair she instructed me to “Get your knees apart you whore, wider you whore, arch your back you useless whore” and needless “lick me deeper you whore.” It was while she was pulling me deeper by my hair that I realised that their new K-9 was mounting me once more and Sir was again guiding him into me. The power that he fucked me at was astonishing and so was the depth he penetrated me causing me to gasp for breath and also to stop licking my Mistress. This caused her to lift my head up and slap my face hard and scream at me to get back to licking her, as hard as I tried I just couldn’t so hard and fast I was fucking I was getting.
In the end, she gave up and lifted my head up and looked me straight in the face calling me names and making me repeat them to her. I was a “useless whore, a dog fucking slag, a boy fucking shit, a stupid arse-licking shit’’ and I wanted “to be fucked by dogs, I liked to be fucked by dogs, I wanted the dog to fuck me in my slags arse, I wanted to suck the dogs cock, I wanted to drink the dogs cum.” The more she screamed at me the more I repeated what she had said and if I failed to my face was slapped hard. At the same time, she was furiously rubbing herself off and screamed abuse at me as she came slapping my face really hard as she squirted all over my face.
Pulling my face to her she didn’t stop berating me as the rocking of my body gave her the benefit of dog still pounding into me at the other end. It was as she insulted me I became aware to the fact I’d surpassed being sexually aroused and was now feeling deeply ashamed. I was ashamed at the fact I was committing an act of bestiality the lowest perversion a human could commit and not only that I was committing incest at the same time. It took the dog half an hour to lose interest after depositing his cum inside me and it fell asleep. My humiliation wasn’t over as once more I was lifted up by my hair this time by Sir and told to squat so the cum inside me dripped onto the floor from where I was told to lick it up, not my first taste of dog cum but far from my last, my tears mixed with it as my tongue as I licked it up.
I didn’t sleep at all the night I cried most of the night and even my method of taking a long soak in the bath didn’t work. My back was also scratched badly from Ross the day before something that I’d have to suffer more of until he was better trained. There was no whoring that week or the week after that as my back was so badly Marked. What did happen was each night I’d be called on the slut phone to go and submit to their new arrival but now with an old coat thrown over my back.
Sunday afternoon trips to the woods restarted this time with two dogs to service instead of just one but as Sir reignited the appetite in our own dog who had been inactive with me for a few years. The first time in the woods the two dogs had a massive fight the younger dog coming off worse bringing a whole new meaning to the alpha male for me. Later we would take them both on a leash tying one to a tree until the other had pleasured itself inside me. One of the things that stick in my mind even after all these years were Robert’s words each time his fingers felt my cunt before “You wet bitch you’re fucking gagging for it” often he bent me over and buggered me before the two four-legged attendees got their pleasure. If he did or didn’t have me first I knew I’d be wet as soon as he touched me or even for a long time before that, a bitch now in the true meaning of the word as well as a whore. I knew I was and I also recognised the fact I had been for some time. I am not sure how I felt about myself at that time but it was the lowest point I had sunk to lower than the time I was with Healy or so I thought at the time. It would take months for me to find out just how wrong I was about that.
There were many more trips to hotel rooms mainly in or around the airport where there were a lot of hotels. The routine was established if I wasn’t “whoring’ in the day or evening I’d be at Sir’s and Mistress house to perform services for her or Ross or both or for all three of them. One day on my way there straight from work I was held up in traffic and getting anxious that I wasn’t going to get there on time. Now looking back I’m not certain if I was worried if I’d be punished for being late or because I was missing out on being something, what that something was I don’t know I didn’t know then and I don’t know now maybe I never will. All I did know was that I wanted to be there and on time and more than likely on my knees for some reason or another.
The time I served my Mistress and Sir lasted for eight years and the first few drifted one into the next the last two years things changed dramatically for me. You get to the stage where the things that are happening to you are “normalised” the depth of your degradation seams standard to you. I have read books and had many conversations with other submissive women and men for that matter, as well as “battered wives” who I was told many times that I was in that category that like I “wanted to be treated like that” maybe I did. Whatever the reason have I accepted the fact my life wasn’t my own. I was and still am a confident woman in all other respects at work I was just below “Main Board” status of a huge multinational company I even had a huge BMW as my company car and a salary that was well into three figures.
So why did I allow myself to become this thing that was less than nothing committing act that would have any well-balanced human being would have run screaming to the police or the divorce courts. I didn’t go complain or go to anybody. I didn’t protest, I asked questions neither for things to stop nor for a rest bite from the daily prostitution or bestiality. I didn’t say a word when I was made to sit in a bar half-naked open-legged flashing my shaved cunt to attract “punters” or the time I was lent to another pimp who ferried me around to his regulars one after the other “doing” twelve one day and seventeen the next. This would have become a regular occurrence if they had gotten over who took which share of the money and it took up my holiday time at work.
The one thing that did come out of this arrangement was one of the most unpleasant two weeks of my life up to that date. Contact of the pimp was a guy who ran a brothel in Blackburn in Lancashire without me knowing Sir made contact with him. By now it was second nature to me to call my brother-in-law Sir and in fact, I had to stop myself calling him that several times at family functions, which pleased him no end.
I was instructed to take 10-day leave from work which I did and on the Monday of the first day, Sir called to collect me telling me to pack an overnight bag but then following me into my bedroom and threw various items into the bag. Then he told me to bend over the bed and fucked me hard. He didn’t tell me where we were going and I didn’t ask as we traveled up the M6 past Wigan he turned off the Motorway and into a lay-by on the main road. He’d managed to slip in between two Lorries whose drivers were queuing up for food and got his cock out and without being asked I lowered my head and sucked him off.
The journey continued once Sir was satisfied but he didn’t want his cock returning to his trousers leaving it out and have me lick it as he wanted. I was not so busy with my head down I didn’t know where we were traveling to nor could I see which road we were driving along not that I would have recognised where we were going if I wasn’t sucking cock.
We had arrived in Blackburn a northern mill town I’d only ever heard about but not been too visit at the end of my stay I’d never want to back. Sir drew his car up outside what looked like a corner shop at the end of a row of terraced housed, which was what it was in fact. The shop was in a street of houses and the area was street after street of the same all pointing way towards what used to be a working cotton mill now closed. As I left the car I looked around and this was clearly the most rundown area of any place I’d ever been to. The street was full of kids running around as kids do the one thing I soon noticed was they were all Asian. The kids were Asian as were the adults who were all dressed the same way more at home in Pakistan than Lancashire. The new car drew attention and I walked around the car to reach Sir I soon became the centre of attention and I guess the short skirt didn’t help at all, the one thing that I do recall clearly was what Sir said looking round he commented “Spot the white man” which was just about impossible.
Sir took me into the shop and the shopkeeper who was white greeted Robert and looked me up and down as he did so and smiled at me and commented “Nice legs let’s see some more” and gestured to Sir who told me to “Lift” and I reached down and pulled my skirt up and bunched it up opening my legs wide as I’d always been taught exposing myself to him as I had to others so many times. The man was fat balding middle-aged about 50 years-old smelt of sweat and he moved around me making comments about my “cunt and arse” and asking Sir Questions like “She had many cocks? She take it up the arse well?” too which he was told, “She does as she’s told when she’s told she is a good whore and if she isn’t you can kick the shit out of her she’ll expect it.”
The man whose name was Harvey stopped looking at me and stood in front of me and slipped a finger into my cunt and smiled to himself as he found out I was wet. Sir barked at me to “suck his cock’ and I got to my knees in front of him as he unzipped himself. As I sucked they talked and when I’d cleaned up the last drop of his cum he stank, Harvey moved away and told us to follow him. He took us through the back of the shop and into a courtyard at the back where there was a wooden staircase which led to the first floor of the house next door to the shop, he rang a bell and the door opened and we followed him through. The decoration was truly awful and the place smelled of a mixture of cheap perfume and bleach and the walls were painted in various shades of purple. There was a small counter facing the door where entrance where sat a small fat woman in a nylon dressing gown who was introduced as Dolly, not her real name, apart from the dressing gown and a pair of slippers Dolly was naked, it wasn’t a pretty sight with rolls of fat and mass of dark pubic hair showing through the gown.
Harvey walked us through the building which was, in fact, the upper floors of several terraced houses all knocked into one long row of bedrooms, slowly it dawned on me, this place was a brothel and I was going to be working it. As my brother-in-law and dominant talked and discussed splits of money I was shocked and numb as the reality hit me and half the deal struck Sir left me with the brothel owner Harvey without speaking a word to me or even looking at me and he was gone smirk on his face.
Dolly was the one who told me the rules they opened at 11 am and they closed between 3 and 4 am the next day some girls worked for a few hours and others longer. I was to work the full time the place was open as my “Manager” had given instruction to that end. Not only was I to work as long as the place was open I wasn’t going to be allowed to leave. It was Dolly who showed me the room I was to wait in until the “punters” came in where the “girls” waited before the punters to choose them throwing me a dirty nylon dressing gown she told me to put it on and take everything else off once I had she took my clothes away and I’d not see them again for 17 days.
The rules of the house were simple the punters came in and took a girl to one of the rooms fees were simple £25 for sex, sex and oral was £35 anal was an extra £15 on top so try to get them to pay for all three which made £50 the other thing was letting them suck my tits, but that was up to me if I wanted to I could let them. As I sat nervously and almost close to tears a couple of the girls, girls was a good word for them, told me that the punters would always ask for something for nothing and all lie about paying for it and try to take me for a fool so ask Dolly or whoever was taking the money what they had paid for any problems scream and the others would come running. Also to check they were wearing protection as the bastards would try to fuck you without it.
Nothing happened until 11.30 when the doorbell rang and Dolly opened it to an Asian guy dressed in the same garb as the others I’d seen outside what the “girls” called “pyjamas and a dress and a silly little hat” I could smell the spices from the curry on his clothes as he walked towards us. I have no idea what his name was or even if he was married, single, kids no kids or what age he was all I did know was as soon as he saw me he would be the first to take me into one of the “bedrooms” and I was right.
He didn’t smell any better close up and as predicted he wanted everything sex, oral, anal and bareback sex all without paying for the extras. He tried to go bareback on me bending me over the bed after freeing my tits from and squeezing like udders. As I’d been instructed I reach behind and felt his cock and it was rubber free and I stopped him. He gave me the same argument they all gave me and I was a whore and filth and I just smiled and hated myself because I knew he was correct. Nevertheless, I wasn’t having any crap out of him and after making 100% certain he was covered in rubber I guided into my cunt. He finished and slapped my backside hard as did the next one and the one following him as they all did, all same routine, try for bareback, anal, and oral and end with a slap on the arse, all thirty-three of them the first day.
I ended that day too tired to eat and collapsed in a heap on the bed I was given at the end of the long corridor. The telltales signs of the smell of curry and BO and the odd used condom on the floor told me this was a working room not that I cared. Harvey came into the room about half an hour after I’d slumped asking me “Any of those bastards fuck your arse” I shook my head too tired to move. He looked down on me “Good so get your arse in the air and spread your fucking cheeks” as always I did as I was told and the brothel owner stuffed my “shit hole” and pumped his cum into me. So my first day ended as a common prostitute lay on an unmade bed surrounded by used condoms and if I wasn’t so tired I would have been able to smell just how bad I actually stank. It was a mixture of my own body odour, of the men who had had me, rubber and the stench of just dirt and damp.
I woke the next morning shaken awake by Harvey who told me to take a shower and put some “slap” on and get ready got work. Before the doors were opened for business he’d “come back to cum” this was a joke he made every day for the next sixteen days I was at that brothel. Every day was the same woken by Harvey and ended eighteen hours later slumped with his cum leaking out of me too tired to move or care for that matter. On the last day, I was so tired that I could hardly stay awake let alone reach behind me to check for condoms or stop them from pushing into my “tighter hole” and didn’t even try and I guess a dozen or so got lucky.
Robert came for me just before the place opened on what would have been my seventeenth day there. Sitting in Harvey’s office at his desk he counted his “earnings” and talked about the money and was quite pleased with the result. So pleased in fact he agreed to take me back as soon as it could be arranged. My only thoughts as soon as I heard that little snippet was “Oh my god, not again please” I was too tired and sore to say a single word. I didn’t speak or protest either when Harvey wanted me to suck him off before bending me over his desk to “sample my arse hole one more time” I even managed to make a few “encouraging” words I’d leaned made the “punters” cum quicker “Oh that feels so good, fuck me fuck me in the arse, fuck my arse” and then louder “deeper hurt me, hurt me deeper” and I felt him jerk and pull me backward as he dumped his cum inside me. On the way home, he asked me question after question on how many I’d fucked and in which hole. As we pulled off the motorway he stopped took out his cock and I sucked him as we drove the last few miles to my house, as we drove through the gates I was wiping his cum off my lips and as I walked through the front door I once more told myself I couldn’t get much lower, I was wrong yet again.
It was after my trip to the brothel and yet another Sunday afternoon post-lunch visit to the woods with Sir and both our dog and Ross Sir’s animal and after all three cocks had used me. I realised I was no closer to my husband’s bed now then I was when he took me back from Healy now almost seven years before. It was also about that time I knew that I was the slut, slave, prostitute and just a piece of meat to my little sister and her husband or “Sir & Mistress” as I was compelled to call them and had been since I agreed to serve them.
The ritual was established I’d go to work and the now renamed “whore phone” would ring and I’d be told to go to this car park or hotel and sometimes in a squalid pub in dubious area and meets a “punter” who I’d have to extract the payment the amount sent to me in a text. I’d then be summoned to "Sir's" to give him his money and answer his question sometimes with Ross wanting and getting his “daily fuck” while I made my “confession” or licked "Madam's" cunt as I was “bred” at the other end by Ross.
"Sir" didn’t have the slightest smidgeon of respect for me and in fact, the more I did try to please him the worse he treated me and the harder and more frequently Madam punished me and the use of the riding crop fast becoming her favourite implement. It got to the stage that those punters who wanted their whores pristine started to complain and even demand refunds. This did not please my “Owners” in the slightest as my body was earning them money on one hand and their dominance of me they saw as in some way diminished if they could not beat me, it wasn’t. Let us not forget the simple fact was she liked hurting and humiliating me and was getting to like it a lot more every day. Sir clearly still thought I was a “stuck-up bitch” and treated me so. Madam who now worked at the same company as myself as a PA for a junior manager who in fact worked for me if only many rungs down the ladder, hated what I’d achieved at work and my home and family and didn’t even bother to hide the fact as she beat and berated me.
The thing was that I still had an agenda of my own and would have put up with whatever they wanted for that one reason I still wanted redemption. Now with the benefit of hindsight, I realise that not only had I grown to accept my status with them, but I also didn’t know what was normal or not, if anything in my life was at that point.
The question was for my "Owners" was how to punish and humiliate me without marking me and I guess sending me to bed early was out of the question. The method she came up with was simple and easy to do all you had to do was eat a good meal and let nature take its course. Her new method of punishing me would not leave a mark just make my breath smell her brainwave was scat, (A slang term for "coprophilia, fecophilia, fecalphilia or coprolagnia.” It is a paraphilia involving sexual pleasure through human faeces, or rather to its excretion.) Or in other words, they made me eat their shit even more accurate his shit.
Of all the things I have written about in the pages of this diatribe, this is the most difficult to write about and once I started this chapter I stopped for over six months before I found the strength to start again. That said this will be the shortest chapter for the same reason.
The first time he took me to the toilet was to lick his arse clean something of a first in every respect although I was no stranger to “rimming” him, her or whoever, licking a dirty arse hole was difficult but as always I managed it. I was tied down the first time he did it on my face and rubbed it in I moved my head from side to side and shouted for him to stop and he pushes some into my mouth and holding closed together with my nose forcing me to swallow it. I was then dragged onto me feet punched in the stomach and flogged until I thought I’d pass out I didn’t but I did vomit.
I have said in this sad story that you can get used to anything, believe me, you can’t, eating shit is fundamentally not true you can’t. The second, third and fourth time was a repeat of the first tied down but this time wood has placed either side of my head so I couldn’t move and the stomach came first but again the vomiting came last.
By the tenth time, there was no need to be tied or stomach my “training” was complete I would follow him to the toilet and clean him without wrenching or vomiting and take his “scat” straight from the body into my mouth and eat it once given the command. Why did I do this? I don’t know why I did, why didn’t I just give up and leave my husband and children? Who by the way had distanced themselves from me even more than they had been when I’d come home after my ill-fated affair. The reason was simple they were growing up and I was never there if I wasn’t whoring in some hotel room I was with my "Owners" and no closer to my husband.
Eighteen months passed of this nightmare and it came to an abrupt end when after being given some cold scat to eat I became ill. I was so ill my weight went from 8st pounds (112 pounds) to 4st 10pounds (66 pounds) having contracted Botulism and spending two months in hospital. I lost weight, teeth, and hair all the remaining self-respect I had left.
My husband was so annoyed with my "Owners" that he wouldn’t even allow them to see me or visit me in hospital. It was a further four months before I was up and about so to speak and two more before I was back at work. All of which I had not even seen or heard from my "Owners" nor had the slut phone rung there’d been no hotels, no scat (which was now a hard limit) and no beatings. On the upside, I had grown closer to my family that is both my husband and my children most of all my son.
A year after being taken ill I was once more not only back at work but my relationship with my "Owners" re-established all be it in a less intense way almost mild in manor. There was no whoring, or Sunday after lunchtime walks into the woods for the time being anyway. True to say I still spend hours on my knees head buried in my sister’s pussy or being impaled with my brothers-in-laws cock in one or another of my holes the same went for their pet dog, there were no other people involved and nor would there be again with them.
The end of my servitude to my “Owners” came quickly after eight years of being nothing more than a cash cow and a living toilet for them. During that time one thing had kept me going and I never faulted and that was my aim to finally get together with my husband and be able to call him Master once more. Things had got better and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel or so I thought, maybe I was wrong. It all changed one Sunday afternoon when my Owners turned up for the regular Sunday meal one of which my Mother had come to cook with myself and my daughter.
Since my father’s death, my mother had mellowed, to say the least, she was extremely proud of her “Son” as she now called my husband and she didn’t care who she told including Robert and Alison. After lunch, I cleared the plates away and Sir suggested we walk the dogs saying his normal “OK time to stretch the legs and get these dogs some fun.” All the adults with the exception of my mother knew what he was saying and clearly, both animals did as well even though our own family pet was just unable to perform. However; as this was the first time he’d been able to take his Sunday walk with me I for some reason just said: “If it’s all the same to you I’d rather take a little rest instead, I think I will have a nap in my bedroom.”
Both my owner's faces looked as if they had seen a ghost so much so my Mother even asked him if he was OK? As I had already walked out of the room there wasn’t a lot he could do about it especially as my son came up to check on me. I was tired and I wasn’t still 100% and when I did come down both my Owners had gone.
Monday at work my sister came into my office telling my own PA that she had some files she’d been told to deliver after being told to leave them my sister told my PV “No it's fine we have some sister talk to do anyway.” Once stood at my desk all pretense went and she told me in no uncertain terms what a bitch I was and they would punish me in a way I’d never forget and to be at their house at 5.30 after work.
My Mistress was correct I will never forget the beating she gave me ever. Tied face down on a bench she beat me until I fainted from the pain and when the smelling salts brought me back she beat me again until I fainted. I woke the second time to them both arguing this time I was face up but still tied to the bench the pain in my back, thighs, and buttock immense. He was shouting something about blood on the walls she was screaming for him to do as they’d agreed I was drifting in and out of consciousness but I became aware I couldn’t move my head, cry out and say anything this was due to the fact they had put an “O ring gag” in my mouth and him under her instruction straddled me and shit into my mouth through the ring of the gag. That was followed by Madam straddling me and emptying her bladder down my throat.
Panic must have set in when I passed out once more unable to wake me they could either ring for an ambulance, ring our family Doctor or ring my husband. They wisely chose the last option and he came to get me. I woke with a massive stomach ache my husband having used a piece of hose to wash it out then he carried me to his car and drove me home. Waking again in the middle of the night I was screaming my head off but I felt him holding my hand telling me “It’s OK everything is alright no need to worry I am here for you, sleep go to sleep.”
Sleep I did for 24 hours, in fact, waking up around 4 am on Wednesday morning again from a nightmare and again my husband was there holding my hand. He gave me a drink of water and we talked for what appeared to be hours and hours but was in fact just two. I was told that “your sister and idiot husband of hers are done, finished you don’t have to see, speak or hear from them again.” I was pleased and I tried to smile but I was just too weak. I did manage to ask about them only to be told, “They are both fine the last time I saw them.”
Two weeks after my punishment beating I was well enough to go back to work and I told my family just that. Only to be told that I could do that in ten days time when they would be expecting me back. In the meantime, I had to pack an overnight bag just enough for two days that is all. No need for anything more. I was being taken by my husband for some retail therapy in Paris my soon to be favourite place in the World, well until I found Milan and New York anyway.
It was the end of my servitude to my sister and her husband but not the end of my servitude no not by a long way. I was soon back as the property of my husband still The Slag Susan, still seeing other Dom’s and Domme’s maybe even more so. To be happy I was glad even pleased, I was beaten, buggered, gangbanged even whored and happy to be so.
At the age of forty, I had my third child it was my husbands and yes he was planned and we are all happy. My husband is happy to have a slag/slave/whore for a wife and I am happy to be his wife/slave/slag/whore, after all, he didn’t make me a slag he just developed what he found.
As for my sister, she and her husband split up in less than a year she took him to the cleaners in the divorce of course. Well, he is thick, isn’t he? I don’t see or speak to her anymore but I do her daughter who is the spitting image of her uncle.
I lost my job and its three-figure salary after a dogging trip with our friend Alan as I was spotted and fucked by a man from work, long story. I ended up working as the Office Manager and PA to a member of The Circle at just 10% of my former salary. He used me three times a day for four years. However, that is a different story for another day.
Malcolm Healy died a few years after the attack on him joining Toby and Steve who in the words of my husband they have gone to hell where they will be in good company. I tried hard not to laugh each time I was given the news and each time I failed.
I said at the start of this scribble I don’t know why I did half the things I did over the years and I still don’t maybe I am just a cock hungry slag whore I don’t know. It has been pointed out to me by a counselor I have been seeing that “You appear to be attracted to violent men Susan, would you agree?”
No, I don’t think I am and I don’t know why I never walked away from them, do you?