It was not the first time Cylvan had worn that collar, but each time it filled her stomach with butterflies for the first few moments until she beamed...with pride, carrying her mistress's mark for anyone to see. Everyone would know without a doubt that she belonged to Mistress Rosalyn Elliott. The two women embraced one another again and kissed deeply, uncaring about being outside for everyone to see. Soon it was time to go. Cylvan greeted the two animals sitting on the back seats, with a pat. She completed the fifth lap as he turned at the end of his fourth. Jesus. No way would he have sex with her, she’d kill him, draining his balls dry. They stood drying and he eyed her. Pulling aside her towel she flaunted her body. ‘So you like my body?’ ‘It’s about as close to perfection a mortal woman can get.’ She appeared surprised. ‘What?’ She toweled her hair and said, ‘After me winning the swim I expected you to be resentful and say oh it’s all right.’ ‘I’m not a poor loser.’ ‘No and I. More

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