She squeezed them, her thumbs sweeping across my breasts and brushing my nipples. “Isn’t she, Ian?”“Yes,” the principal groaned. “She is, ...awdat.”“Mrs. Umayyah,” growled my husband. “Show my slave-wife respect.”“Yes, yes, Mrs. Umayyah,” squeaked the principal. “I’m so sorry for insulting your ... slave-wife.” “And you’re going to fuck her whore-cunt,” growled Daddy, his voice so throaty. He got off on ordering us to be such sluts.I loved it.“You are, Ian,” moaned my mom. “My Daughter and I are. The flat stone walls were bathed in soft light from the oil-lamps and candles that decorated the room. A large wooden tub in the corner was being filled with warm water by another warrior, whilst a table in the opposite corner was being served with food. The fine linen cloths on the bed were replaced by animal skins and furs. Her father’s blood had been washed from the floor, but the stain was still plainly there. A giant man stood in the center of the room, facing the window, his back draped. More

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