Where he had just (she thought in a mental whisper that seemed to hurry over the word, and a mental blush) fucked her, for the second time: where he had just fucked her to a shattering orgasm—a climax of a kind she had never thought before that day her body might have been capable.Could she do it? Get up herself and go over there and kneel before him, and… do that?The tiny voice in her mind that had been shouting just a few moments before, Say it! Say what he wants so that he’ll just keep fucking you! had fallen to the softest of whispers, but now had more to say, in a sort of constant stream of insidious words: Don’t you want to see it? Don’t you want to kiss it to show it how much pleasure it gave you? Don’t you owe that to the man who has paid for you?Abigail’s owner was so handsome, and so graceful. He wasn’t terribly muscular—not like Master Ian, anyway—and he had rather a lot of golden fur on his chest that Abigail wouldn’t have suspected she could find attractive, but his eyes shone out so very blue from his Nordic face.
