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Not too far down the road, Steve asked Vickie how she was getting along, since leaving her abusive hubby. She said "OK" but living with her folks was cramping her style, and certainly her sex life. Steve was a little surprised by her direct answer... but kept his cool by saying... "I would think you would be able to meet a dozen guys who could help you out in that area." Vickie responded "I'd settle for a hug and a kiss at this point!"Steve wasn't sure whether she was speaking in generalities or specifically at him... so he said" I'm sure there is a long list of men who would be happy to take on that chore!" Vickie responded "Would your name be on that list?"Steve was both dumbfounded and turned on by her response... He said" Would you like it to be?" She said blushing, "I have been wondering what it would be like to kiss you for a long time." Steve said " Don't say it if you don't mean it, because that could be arranged."She blushed again and said. "I mean it."Steve turned into the. Apparently it craved still sweater meat because every sixth stroke or so Scott would direct it between the girl's legs, where it would slap enticingly off of her tender pussy. This would draw the most wonderful screams yet.There was only so much pleasure to be had in whipping, though, and he decided it was time to move on. He remained sitting on the girl, who was now softly crying, pondering how to proceed. He looked at the back of her head, her face obscured by her hair. Very gently, he brushed the hair to the side to get a better view of her. She turned her face away, but Scott turned it back, forcing her to endure his scrutiny. She had beautiful brown eyes. He knew that he would end the evening watching those eyes as they died. But he wasn't quite ready for that yet. His eyes moved to the girl's slender, graceful neck.Wrapping the ends of his belt around his hands, he then slid it under her chin and wrapped it once around her neck. He pulled sharply upward and backward, jerking.
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’ —————————— Glade was also young and innocent on the first day of her life of servitude. She had only the vaguest idea of what was expected of her. She understood that she was now a slave, like everyone else in the village not from the ruling tribe, but the only duties she’d observed the slaves perform was during the long march to the village. She had no concept of what other obligations there might be. Moreover, the loss of liberty was still an abstract idea to her. She still believed that when the time came, she could walk away from these brutal black warriors and return again to the comforting shade of the forests. She awoke after her deep slumbers to see the other two slaves engaged in tasks whose purpose was still obscure to her. One was mashing up grasses and herbs into a powder with a round stone, while the other was weaving the stems of long grasses into the shape of a bowl. ‘Hello,’ she said, perhaps thinking that all her misery was now over and that these slaves secretly.

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