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I sat and watched him, his hands twitchy, standing up now and taking off his shirt, then taking the long, dark leather bullwhip out of the bag, flicking it across the room a few times. As soon as she came back into the room, he was on her, the whip slicing through the air, biting into her titties, raising red stripes and small welts. She offered herself, standing straight, back arched, arms behind her back, tits shaking back and forth under his merciless blows that never seemed to stop. He was closer to drawing blood these days and it scared me but he never crossed the line. Not yet. Anyway, enough about that. I was explaining to you why she never talks. Once John saw the effect that writing those papers was having on her, he suggested I consider having her keep silent. It would be tough, very, very tough, for such an intelligent woman to not be allowed to express any of it. We toyed for a while with the idea of having her put on a hillbilly accent, make sure to speak in only single. " We took slow sips. Carla scooted closer to look over my shoulder, and I felt the bare skin of her leg on my arm. It was then I noticed Carla had changed, wearing an overlarge shirt, and nothing else. Even though I couldn't see, I knew somehow that she wasnt wearing any panties. The thought made my legs quiver."Um, these are pretty good," I told her, not really knowing what else to say at the moment. "Any of these girls you know?" No comment," Carla said with a grin, and moved even closer. I could practically feel the heat from her body warming me. Unconsciously I leaned towards her. I could smell the sweet coffee on her breath, almost taste it. "Well..." she went on, pointing out a sketch of a seminude woman lying on her stomach, with a towel over her bottom. "There was Lisa, she was lots of, um, fun." For the first time I saw Carla blush, and my face warmed in empathy.It was then that I kissed her, with my mouth mostly closed but firmly, pushing her shoulders down on the couch..
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