I had many happy memories to review in the back of my mind as I worked on my book. A few months later, the book was progressing nicely, and my publish...r was again on good terms with me. Then one day I received a telegram from Madeline. This was the first communication that I had received from her since our trip to Genoa. But when I read it I froze. Juliette’s husband Stefano had died suddenly, from a heart attack. Madeline was going to Genoa to be with Juliette. Would I go with her? I. She'd expected, hoped for, some reaction from him. She was giving-in, submitting, doing as he asked, surrendering to his dominance. She expected him to slap her bare ass, or at least pinch, grab or feel it. She wanted him to touch her ass. Looking back over her shoulder, she looked to see if he had even taken notice. He had. He was sitting there glaring at her ass with a puzzled look on his face.Mary flinched when she heard the chair scuff on the floor expecting to feel the sharp sting of a. More

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