But he was amusing – and I quickly ascertained from the deference he was accorded that he was the richest person in the room."We're drinking Kir Roy...ls," said Rachel. "Do you want one?" Of course," I answered. I would have preferred something stronger. Kir Royal, a mixture of champagne and crème de cassis, was, I knew from visits to Paris, a vulgar drink for people with more money than taste. (Yes, I am being catty and, no, I don't apologize for it.)After a couple of Kirs and a few minutes of. I don't know how long I stood there, back straight, chest thrust forward, eyes downcast, fingers clutching the fabric of my skirt as I continued to display myself for her. My feet, shod in the five-inch spike heels which you selected for me, began to hurt and my thighs were turning to rubber. My throbbing pussy was sodden with moisture--I desperately wanted to cover myself, but I knew better.Eventually, she reached out and pulled at the waistband of my panties. "Take those off," she commanded.. More

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