" But where, hang it all?" Behind that screen." There's nothing behind that screen, nothing but a door." And that door—?" Leads to a dressing-room."...Well, Monsieur le Prefet, Inspector Vérot, tottering, losing his head, imagining himself to be going from your office to your secretary's room, fell into your dressing-room."M. Desmalions ran to the door, but, at the moment of opening it, shrank back. Was it apprehension, the wish to withdraw himself from the influence of that astonishing man, who. His thrusts became more violent, his balls smacking against my chin. They were heavy and covered in thin, yellow hair. His moans became animalistic grunts, primal, masculine, dominating. I was merely an object to be used for his pleasure, a living sex toy—a doll. How degrading!My fingers found my twat, and rubbed through my dripping lips. I was so primed with lust that the merest brush of my fingers across my aching sex exploded the passion within me. I moaned about his cock, and clung to his. More

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