“No not today,” I counselled and I helped her to stand once more. I took her left hand as I did so and looped it through a leather thong above an... to the side of her head.“Stop!” she insisted. I was too strong and instead secured her other hand above her head.Then I pulled the head restraint down onto her head and carefully secured it.I released the break and turned the wheel one half turn. Blood rushed to her head. Her skirts tumbled down over her chest baring her parts for like most fine. You again reach for your drink. This time you do show me your nipples. You make like it is an accident but it was not. You conceal your smile as you see the swell in my pants get larger. You giggle and ask me if I enjoyed the look. I tell you I did, very much, and would not mind another! You sit up to look directly at me but have your arm covering you. You ask what would I like to see? I say I want to see your breasts. You have them cupped in your hands now and are giving then small. She was young at the time, and her mind always felt fuzzy – still did – but somehow it seemed like she didn’t belong in the house. Everyone had a purpose there, she’d learned that quite quickly. There were the gardeners, the maids, the cooks and kitchen hands, the stableboys, drivers, menders. Then there was Paetin and Sire Mastro, overseeing it all. So where did she fit in with everything. Everywhere the girl walked, the feeling followed. In the kitchen the cooks skirted around her as though. Tonight, Amber could stand it no longer and was determined to relieve the incredible ache and heat that burned inside of her soppy, stained white cotton panties."Imam Faraj, sir...I...umm...I just..." Amber stumbled to say, now unsure of herself in the moment, afraid now to make the bold move she had so carefully planned and dreamed of."It's all right child, take your time. I have all the time Allah sends to listen, my dear." the deep, warm tones of the Imam's voice washing over Amber, soothing.
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