"Yes Charlotte, " he told her firmly. "I require you shaven at all times and presented well for me."She was breathing fast, could only nod for the moment. "I understand. I understand, yes."His fingers, gently exploring over her clitoris to the point where she had been desperately trying to think of anything else so as not to cum without permission, tightened suddenly. She squealed in sudden pain."Yes what, Charlotte?" Master! Yes Master!" she whimpered, his pinching hold on her most sensitive area a lesson learnt quickly. His fingers loosened and again became gentle, stroking her slowly once again."Hmmm. Do not forget again, " he warned her. She could only nod and gasp, trying so hard not to cum. Perhaps he knew that, for his fingers stopped and she ached for their return, for a release he had so far denied her, but then she heard a rustle of denim, felt movement right behind her as he shifted and undid the button fly to his pants.She could not help but push back now when she felt. It was all good experience, but our fingers were tingling with cold as we went back indoors. Dad offered to let us do a bit of the driving if the roads were okay, as neither of us had any Motorway experience. We decided that we'd let him drive; there would be quite enough inexperienced drivers on the road over Christmas.After one of Mum's winter cooked breakfasts, with fried bread, I hitched a lift to Bristol with Mum, Dad and Jen first thing on Christmas Eve, being able to hold my sister's hand under the car rug most of the way. The roads actually weren't too busy, most sensible people having taken the Monday and Tuesday off work, and departed for their destination the previous Friday. We drove through Corby and Market Harborough, enjoying the prettiness of the Welland Valley (if you discounted the modern atrocity that British Steel had built at the front of the older Stewarts and Lloyds steel works, which at least were still wearing some of their wartime camouflage paint).Just.
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