The bruised and withered flower became my final offering to my father's grave."My next memory is of someone jostling me and bowling me over flat at a ...rain station. He was very large and most likely never saw me. I could barely see his face; his belly blocked his features from my view as I sat on the train platform looking up at him. And then, I remember Madame showing me my room for the first time. I may have been ill when I first arrived at the opera house, as Madame made me stay in bed for a. Our hands on each other, he kisses my neck, soft, tender kisses, then back to my mouth. He pulls me closer, his ardour apparent against my thigh. I drop a hand and feel him through his trousers. "Uh huh", he says, stepping away and taking his thickening cock away from my grasp. I look disappointed. "Slowly", he says, his eyes sparkle. He takes the spaghetti straps of my ball-gown off my shoulders, kissing the skin as he turns me around. His lips press gently to my neck, up the nape to the. More

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