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"We doneed the treasure, right?"Dacie sighed. "Unfortunately, he is correct. Come on; let's go before hegets into trouble."Passing a few more vestibules, the party came to a dead end. "I'm sorryif I seem greedy." Owein began to explain. "I just want to make surethat when we get back to the city we are able to find someone to helpus. The only way that is going to happen is if we have coin in outhand." There must be other ways, Owein," Elisa said."If there are, you tell me, I would be happy to listen." The Officer ofDragoons pointed down the hallway. "However, you're right, let this bethe last room. We have been down here long enough. What we have found sofar is a good start don't you think? If we find something similar in thenext chamber, then we will be ahead." Last room?"Owein nodded. "Last room." Alright then, let's get the party started." You're going to get us into trouble if you keep doing that." Dacie ranforward. "You're going to walk right into a trap." Did you feel. The pain in her legs was unbearable. Catherine shrieked as her knees buckled beneath her, and she slumped to the dusty floor in utter despair."What's the matter?" asked Sampson. He didn't sound too concerned."I can't stand. My feet, my legs, they hurt too much ..." Who told you to stand?" he said, "I'm sure I didn't. Filthy Rebel Spies can crawl on all fours just as easily." He reached down and patted her on the head before ordering Oak to put the collar back around her slender neck.Smiling as he watched Catherine once more being collared, the Lieutenant then slipped the leash chain back into place.“Now we can continue our conversation over here, once you and I have led the way through this crowd of people., all eager to see more of you ..." She sensed the smirk on his lips without having to look up.Sampson jerked on her chain and Catherine began to crawl across the room on all fours. As she shuffled past him, Sergeant Oak reached down with one hand and squeezed her bottom, allowing.
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She was always gone by the morning, but since my room is right next to the front door, I can hear her come in. I hear her fumbling with keys, then the door open, and then a few minutes later my roommate's bed banging against the wall. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized about her. I was single and hadn't really had any action for an embarrassingly long time. When she came over in a tight shirt, with her nipples poking out, I found it hard not to stare. When she wore yoga pants and bent over to pick something up, I looked at her panty lines (or lack of) and imagined what she was wearing under. And of course, I thought about fucking her when I lay in my bed listening to her shrill cries and moans as they had sex. I'm not proud of it, but more than once I'd gotten out some lotion and tissues and rubbed one out to the sound of her getting fucked. Now she was going down on me. I had to assume this was a case of mistaken identity... but how drunk did she have to be to come into my.

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