Chapter Eleven

The Reunion Plus One

To use a bit of understatement, Sappho was tired the next morning and missed seeing-off the guys who’d serviced her but Johnston had good vibes when he took-in an early morning cup of tea.

“They liked it?”

“Sure, and they it and they liked you, too; just as I said, Sappho, you’re a very special person and a very beautiful woman. They saw it straight away and that’s why they treated you with respect; not because I told ‘em to: they just couldn’t bring themselves to treat you any other way.”

“That’s good to know, but, hey, you know what? I liked them, too, but I don’t wanna’ go there again. I’ve got that Tee-shirt and, well; let’s just say ‘I’m retiring my ass for general use’. That ok with you?”

“Sure: you mean you’re still my bitch or am I outa’ the loop, too?”

“I like you, Johnston; I loved Jackson almost as much as I love Jonathan but, with you, I feel as though there are more degrees of freedom and no one’s likely to get hurt. I feel there’s a strong bond with you and I don’t want to break it. Are you ok with that?”

“Sure, as a matter of fact, I have something to tell you, Sappho. I know how Jackson must’ve felt seeing another guy fucking his woman and, as they were on you, doin’-this-and-that, I felt kinda’ bad, too. So, all I’m gonna’ say is if you’d wanted to carry on with ‘other guys’ I was goin’ to bow-out. You see, Sappho, I’m fallin’ in love with you! I know it’s the last thing you want to hear but, well, as Jackson keeps-on sayin’, ‘you’re just too darn’ special’.”

Johnston was right: that was the last thing she wanted to hear because it meant pain; ultimately, somebody was going to get hurt, to a greater-or-lesser extent, and that she did not want. There’d already been big-pain over Jackson but, it seemed from Johnston’s reports, he’d closed out the $10bn Rights Issue and was ‘back-in-the-saddle’ so far as deal-making went; but Sappho knew different: Jackson was suppressing a hurt deep-down and it was the knowledge of that which hurt her.

Somehow, she had to split-the-difference; was there a chance she could re-unite the Twins, enjoy them both and head-off any future pain?

“Johnston, I want to re-write the ‘Pearl Fishers’!”

“Ok, but isn’t that just a tad ambitious?”

“Do you know the story we listened to?”

“Well, no; but I enjoyed the evening.”

So Sappho told him and then she took a big step; “How’d you feel if I asked you to share me with Jackson?

“What I mean is: I can be Mistress to each of you and to both of you: after all, you know my circumstances and the reason why I was interested in another affair; it’s just I can’t stand the prospect of knowing he’s ripping-up and that you’re facing being ripped-up, too.

“Johnston, I’m not going to leave my husband and my family; I hate pain; had too much of it, myself, and I know everyone’s not like Jonathan; Ga’ad, he can be a dispassionate son-of-a-mother-lover!”

“Sappho, I think Jackson’ll go for that and I will, too. You know, he’s called me almost every other day asking ‘how you are,’ ‘where we are,’ ‘what we’re up to,’ ‘who’s fucking you’ and you’ve just heard how strongly I’ve grown into you. So, let’s keep it in the family, huh?”

“Does he know about the weekend?”

“He knew it was coming-up but, what’ll please him most is what just pleased me: you’re gonna keep it tight, from now on!

“Listen, while you’re gettin’ up-an’-about, I’ll give him a call; it’ll give me a chance to put a few words together, and we’ll try to have brunch. That Ok, with you?”

“C’m’ere, bro, and kiss me; if I didn’t know better I’d’ve thought you had this all planned out!”

“Nahhhhhhhhhhh, that’s wayyyyyyyyy above my pay-grade. C’mon, move ass, bitch; I’ll go make the call!”

So, that’s what he did.

“It’s good to see you, Sappho!” Jackson squawked as he raced to hug her, squeeze her and, finally, kiss her.

“Good to see you, too, Jackson!” as Sappho kissed him with the same genuine and long-lost passion, pressing her nipples into his chest.

They met at the same diner, with the same waitress, but this time the waitress, eyeing Sappho with Jackson, and still kitted-out with her collar and chain, smiled at Johnston with, “Has your bitch pupped?” and, afterwards, she ran her tongue over her lips: a gesture that earned her another $50.00!

It was a high-touch opportunity for the twins, too, as Johnston and Jackson made great play of hugging, high-fiving and back-slapping but it was Jackson who tugged on her leash and managed to squeeze-in beside Sappho as they ordered.

Everyone had a good appetite; spirits were high and there was a real sense of relief at their reunion. Never mind the potential for sex: this was emotion at its peak and both guys were looking forward to having Sappho as their friend as well as their lover, girlfriend, Mistress and Bitch; only this time, there’d be no extraneous carnal-sharing.

After brunch, they walked in the gardens and Jackson produced another collar and leash so, eyeing Sappho and acknowledging Johnston, he clipped it around her neck and each held their chain in a loose catenary. Of course, a white woman collared-and-chained between two black men attracted a lot of attention, most of it adverse, but there was nothing more than a ‘tut-here and a tut-there’ yet none of the three was bothered, anyway.

It wasn’t long before Sappho entwined her fingers into theirs and so, as well as leading her they began to accompany her and, for those concerned otherwise, it softened the impact of an imagined involuntary subjugation.

“I wanna invite you guys to stay over at my place tonight,” said Jackson, on a whim; “how about it?”

“Yeah; sounds good,” Sappho responded before Johnston could answer: so, they completed the circuit and, on the way back to the cars, Sappho nipped his fingers before breaking-free from Johnston and slotting into the front seat of the Ferrari alongside Jackson; raising her skirts to bare her backside and letting her tits fall out in the process.

“Hey, big-boy, it’s good to be with you again,” as Sappho leaned over, cupped his balls, kissed his lips and undid his zipper. Jackson’s dick sprang out and Sappho covered it with her lips before he spewed his load into her belly. “Ga’ad, that tastes good; have you missed me as well as my pussy?”

“Sappho, I nearly died when you went outta that door; it took a shed-load of willpower to stay evens but, I did it and now, we’re sharing you: and I’m ok with that!”

“I’m glad, Jackson, because my family is important to me and, well, even though my husband does nothing for me sexually, I love him and the kids and there’s no chance we’re ever gonna get divorced. If it’s any consolation for you, Johnston knows the score, too, and, as long as you guys are ok with sharing me I’m happy to take your cock, his cock and both your cocks.”

It was just as well because when the Ferrari and the Continental parked-up in the underground the action started in the elevator when one guy knelt to poke his tongue into her pussy and the other-one sucked on her nipple.

All Sappho could do was spread her arms over their shoulders and part her thighs but by the time they reached the Penthouse she was oozing fluids and ready for what came next.

What came next was a DP: it was no surprise that Jackson went for her ass and Johnston made-do with her pussy but, before long, the twins swapped around and Sappho was flipped-and-flopped between the Black goliaths as though she was a puppet on a string; but, inwardly, Sappho was purring: not just because she was in fuck-heaven but because she’d re-united her lovers.

When they’d finished drilling her Jackson wanted to make love with Sappho on his own so, after she’d taken off her micro-, he lay on top of her and spent ages kissing; pressing his tongue deep into her mouth, laving around her teeth, pawing her titties, stroking his glans into her pussy and wallowing in the flood that welled from her innards when he slipped out, much to the enjoyment of all the accompanying sucking noises.

When he’d finished on her pussy he made her kneel and, as he was slipping into her bum-hole, Jackson noted a different presentation until it dawned on him that Jackson had re-conditioned her submissiveness: but, for the time-being, all he wanted was her and her opening; the original pose, which he preferred, could come later so he plunged-on, gripping her hips, bucking like a bronco, then leaning-in to take her by the shoulders so he could squat on her haunches and ride her to a sexual oblivion.

All this time, Johnston was watching, stroking his dick but not masturbating; he liked seeing his brother’s black meat disappear into his lover’s white body; listening to the grunts, the sighs, the moans and the groans and the rustling and, he, too, was hooked on the monochrome of Sappho’s intrigue.

He had no aspirations to fuck her; she was Jackson’s tonight and, as much as he loved Sappho, Jackson was ‘blood’; so he just watched.

The pounding and the pummelling went on and it was clear that Jackson was trying to make up for lost time; it was also clear that his love and his lust hadn’t abated and Sappho’s little body was taking it all.

The day was getting on so, Sappho and the twins adjourned to the hot-tub and Jackson broke out a bottle of champagne; there was a lot of touching but no fooling around, and not much conversation; just an atmosphere of joy at their physical and emotional reunion.

It was the same when they went to bed; all three shared the sheets with Sappho nestled in-between; her small, white body safely ensconced between the two big black athletes, their arms and legs entwining hers and their cocks proud to her but staying outside.

It was different in the morning and Sappho awoke, almost as usual, with a cock in her ass, another in her pussy and lips pressing onto her mouth. Her tits were being squashed between the two powerful men and there was vigour, rigour and high-intensity movement surrounding her as the centre of attention; it was then she realised it was Johnston in her backside and, as usual, he was taking no prisoners.

Johnston and Jackson were ‘look-alikes’ but they were definitely not ‘behave-alikes’ and this was most especially true of their lovemaking. As it happened, Sappho was able to accommodate and enjoy both styles but, as a long-term, prospective partner, she’d have chosen Jackson any day. In a way, she had the best of both worlds because she had them both and she had them individually; and, right now, they were both fucking the shit out of her.

Jackson left the Penthouse at 0530hrs and Sappho was left to Johnston’s whims and fancies but Johnston carried on as though nothing had happened and Sappho’s belly, her throat and the packets he used in her ass were filling and re-filling over and over again.

The erotic stimulus of seeing a ‘black-man-on-a-white-woman’ is a powerful aphrodisiac and the erotic stimulus of seeing one’s own partner getting fucked by another man is equally powerful; but, when the other man is your brother they are compounded and, when you’re fucking his lover and she’s the same woman as your own lover, the erotic stimulus is even more cumulative. So, when two black twins are fucking each-others’ shared white woman the stimuli were driving Johnston and his brother Jackson to ever-higher levels of intensity and these stimuli were being played out on Sappho.

Her addiction to cock had already been met and it had been transformed to an addiction to black cock: not because of the size but, more so, because of the motor behind it and the sheer eroticism of the black-on-white contrast raising notions of reverse subjugation. But, for Sappho, the length, the breadth, the power and the endurance were complemented by strong feelings of affection for her lovers: these were born out of their respect for her.

Johnston was savouring his intrusions into Sappho’s body; he was taking her slowly, usually in a doggy-style, and was watching, as his black dick filled her holes, how the membranes pulled-out on his withdrawal and folded back-in on the return stroke; always sensing her unspoken responses as her muscles flexed in concert with his movement.

He liked doing her mouth, too: occasionally, Sappho would give an exhibition performance where she used lipstick before blowing him and would keep open her eyes and look up into his; beyond, she’d perfected opening wide her mouth, gazing upwards and allowing him to use her throat like a ‘pussy’ with barely any contact except with her tonsils.

Both Jackson and Johnston enjoyed doing her this way; each would watch, as though in a trance, as the twin brother used her body: first her ass, flexing the membranes in-and-out, holding her narrow waist between big-black hands and rocking her, seeing her tits wobble with the movements; listening to her sighs and her moans then turning her round to take her mouth, going deep into her throat, her ruby-red lips wrapped around the big black glans; and then back again to use her pussy; all in glaringly-slow-motion with her kneeling, doggy-style, before them and them witnessing her climax as she swallowed their stuff or allowed it to run from between her legs; sometimes scooping it between her fingers and licking them clean.

Sappho wasn’t a slut; she was a discerning courtesan, a lady and a woman of the first order: yes, she was a Mistress and a lover but she was one faithfully submissive to her Master and to her own addiction: yet, as the evidence showed, she was neither a whore nor a prostitute but her libido matched the best of them.

Still, Johnston felt the need to expand their activities so he invited Sappho, all collared-up, to lunch with him at the local Diner.

Sure enough, their waitress was there and, as she received them, she smiled, knowingly, at both him and Sappho and ushered them to a quiet table near the window.

“Hi, what’ll it be today?”

“I’ve come for you!” replied Johnston.

“Come again?”

“Well, let me see...” and then Johnston mused, deliberately taking much longer than a moment while, to his delight, the waitress hung-on, “...we want you to join us in a foursome. Do you get the picture?”

“I’m not sure I do get the picture or, maybe, I just get it wrong!”

Johnston said nothing and neither did he move nor shift his gaze.

Shortly, the waitress leaned in and then, smiling, but in a conspiratorial tone, said, “You wanna fuck me, right?”

“Right!”

“Can I think about it?”

“No!”

“Do I get a dog-collar?”

“Only if you earn it.”

“You know what? Y’ah, ok; I’ll join y’all and right after this my shift finishes and I have a four-day break. Is that any good for you?”

“I know; I made enquiries and we start tonight. Meet us at 7pm downtown, at this hotel, and bring a grip because you’ll be staying over; we’ll take cocktails, dinner and then I’ll break you in.”

Now turning to Sappho, the waitress said, “Is he always so romantic?”

“No; but it’s worth it!”

Already, she was wet but her job depended on serving not talking so, tapping her pad with a pencil, she said, “Ok, people; is it steam brews, seafood salads followed by rib-eyes, heavy on the fries?”

“You’ve got it!”

The waitress was a beautiful young woman; tall, well-proportioned, potentially elegant and she looked to be in her early thirties; she had straggly-blonde shoulder length hair, blue eyes and a wide, full mouth that smiled easily; her personality shone out like a beacon and her intelligence was high, as shown by her sharp wit. What neither of them knew was that she was from a fabulously wealthy family and, having just finished her Doctoral Thesis, was filling in time before her Oral Examination. What they did know was that, in any event and later that night, she’d be subjected to another type of oral examination but what they didn’t know was that she’d pass it with flying colours.

When they left the Diner Sappho smiled at her, reassuringly, and Johnston left another $50.00 tip but he didn’t smile: he just looked.

“You never told me about this,” complained Sappho in the Continental, “and don’t even think I’m gonna fuck another woman, buster!”

“We’ll see. You’ll be there and you can play it how you like; maybe she’ll fuck you?”

“Does Jackson know about this?”

“He will just as soon as he answers his cell-phone because he’ll have to reserve the Penthouse in that hotel; we’re staying over tonight and we might spend the whole weekend there.

“Hey, Bro, thanks for pickin’ up; you’re free tonight, right...?

“Ok, listen, you remember that waitress in the Diner? Well, she’s joining us for a foursome and I want you to reserve that Hotel Penthouse for the weekend. We’re meeting her in the lobby at 7 o’clock; cocktails, dinner and then I’m gonna see how she rolls.

“Y’ah, we’ll walk over from your place for 6-45; ok, gotcha!”

Notwithstanding the new introduction Sappho was hot and, as Johnston drove away, she rolled over, unhooked his pants and blew him; “Take me home and fuck me, ok?”

That’s what he did and he noticed how drenched Sappho was as he slid inside her pussy-hole; there was almost no friction and only the slightest frisson of sensation as his big, black tool slipped inside her small, pink pore and, without much effort on his part, she came in a shuddering climax.

Johnston’s feelings for Sappho remained unquenched and, rather than leave her high-and-dry, he finished her off by lapping-up his own jism, now blended with her secretions into an erotic cocktail, and by spreading her flaps with his thumbs, he pressed his tongue high and deep inside her tunnel and wrapped his lips around the outsides to help him pull a vacuum.

Sappho appreciated the attention and, getting over her feelings on the encroachment, apologised to Johnston for her complaint; “Look, I’m sorry I said what I said; she’s lovely and, if the circumstances arise, I’ll play my part; it’s just, well, I’m hetero- and wanna stay that way.”

“I know and no-one’s presuming anything other; hell, Sappho, we don’t even know how she’ll respond to Jackson and me let alone you!”

“I guess I was just a bit jealous and affronted!”

“I know!”

When Jackson got home he, too, wanted an explanation and he got one; “She’s a smart kid, great body, great wit and she’s up for it. What more do you want; her sister?”

As we know, Johnston has a way with words and a way with people but his strike-rate was pretty good and it was improving all the time.

When 7pm arrived the J-twins were seated in the Lobby alongside Sappho and everyone was in a state of high-expectation. The guys were in dark lounge suits, open-necked shirts and highly polished loafers whereas Sappho wore an elegant midnight-blue, figure-hugging, micro-dress. She wore her pearls; her hair was down, over her shoulders, and the cosmetics she used on her eyes and mouth were exquisitely applied. Like her escorts, she wore trademark shoes but, unlike theirs, hers were 5” stilettos.

A few moments later the ‘waitress’ walked in looking anything like a waitress and much more like a Super Model. She’d used her height well and added to it with shoes styled similarly to Sappho’s; like her, she wore a close-fitting micro-dress; this time a dark jade background on which were printed gold leaves but, whereas there was no exposure, it showed-off the fullness of her breasts, her hips and her waist. The choice of cosmetics was refined and her lipstick exacerbated the width and fullness of her mouth and her eye makeup matched the hues in her dress; her hair was styled in what can be described as ‘casually precise’. She wore a bracelet, a watch and a thin-chain gold necklace and, as instructed, carried a small grip. The twins were as taken aback as Sappho when she strode through the lobby doors and walked into the Reception Area with all the confidence of a starlet.

All-in-all, although there was no clash of perfumes, their fragrances were prominent but delicate and, as Johnston rose and walked over to greet her, Jackson stood and Sappho adjusted her position but remained seated. Their greeting was along the lines of well-knowns re-acquainting themselves and, as Johnston approached their guest, she stopped, adjusted her feet, turned her face and raised her chin to accept his light kiss.

For his part, Johnston placed his hands on her hips, drew her in slightly, pecked at the corner of her mouth and breathed into her ear.

“Hi, big-guy!”

“Good evening! It’s great to see you; and you look wonderful!”

“Thank you!”

“Here, let’s get rid of your bag and, before I introduce you to the party, you’d better tell me your name. What is it?”

“Well, maybe it would be better if you introduced yourself, first?”

“Yes, ma’am; I’m sorry; my name’s Johnston.”

“Hello, Johnston, I’m Angelus but it has connotations so, that’s just between you and me. When you introduce me just call me Angie; ok?”

“Sure, Angie,” then he took her hand and waived to a Porter to take her grip to the Penthouse. “We’re over here.”

“Hey, everybody, great to see y’all again,” she opened up.

Then Johnston chimed in with; “Sappho, this is Angie, Angie, this is Sappho; Angie, this is my twin brother, Jackson.”

All smiles; a class-act, an elegant set and a sophisticated setting so, as Johnston suggested drinks, they made their way to the elevator that would take them to the 50th floor; at least it seemed that way because it took a few moments to whoosh them to the top where, when they arrived, they towered over everything around them.

“Angie, it’s our turn to serve you; will it be a Gin and Tonic?”

“Oh, yes, please; I love Gin and Tonic. Thank you!”

Then, to the Barman, “Four large Gin and Tonics, please, and can you make them Bombay Sapphires with Schweppes?”

It was a warm evening so they had their drinks served on the terrace and sat in a semi-circle with boy-girl-girl-boy in a kind of laager formation with the girls backing onto the Bar and facing outwards and the guys, more or less, facing them with the table adjacent. They were on a corner in a fairly secluded place and, naturally, Johnston sat next to Angie.

The conversation was easy; what they did, where they’d studied, a bit about their backgrounds but nothing, at this stage, too revealing. However, what did emerge was the subject of Angie’s PhD and her aspiration to become a University Lecturer. She told them she was a Sociologist and, despite her family-affluence, which stemmed from Shipping, she was pretty-much an egalitarian and felt the proceeds of wealth should be shared more equally in the world. She was speaking, here, in terms of the social philosophy of advocating the removal of economic inequalities amongst people and for the decentralization of power. Angie felt strongly that egalitarianism is the point where equality reflects the natural state of humanity.

Philosophically, neither Johnston nor Jackson agreed, and it was unlikely that Sappho shared such an idealistic view, but none demurred yet all were impressed with her passion and the way she put her case, and they hoped it would be replicated in other ways, too: it was at this point that Johnston leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Angie responded by making it clear she was aroused and an eager participant, then she felt Johnston’s hand slide between her thighs and under her hemline. Acknowledging the advance she parted her legs but never shifted her eyes from his. The slide continued over her stocking tops, onto the bare flesh of her thigh and then it stopped at her panties. Once more, Angie opened up and Johnston’s fingers and thumb kneaded the swollen flesh inside the garment and they all heard her sigh.

“Have you ever been with a Black man?”

“No!”

“Do you know what a ‘Submissive’ is?”

“Erm, I’m not sure; I don’t suppose it’s a literal interpretation, is it?”

“You’re right; it’s not. A Submissive obeys because she wants to; there’s no duress in the kind of submissiveness we have in mind; it’s wholly consensual. A Submissive can say ‘No’ at any time and, when that happens, everything stops. How does that appeal to your thinking?”

“Ok, I’m comfortable with that; is there anything else?”

“Yes, it requires perfect trust in your Master.”

“I see.”

“Angie, we’re going to start right now: since you’re wearing panties and, because I’ve just discovered you have a bush under them, I’m going to assume you’re wearing a bra?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Ok; I want you to go to the Ladies Room, right now, and take off your bra and your panties. When you come back, carry your panties in your left hand and your bra in your right hand. Give your bra to Jackson and your panties to me.”

At this the men stood: Angie rose and left her seat; she walked with complete assurance to the Ladies Room from where she emerged more than a few moments later bearing her underwear as instructed.

“Master, here’s my bra and here’re my panties, Master: when would you like me to depilate?”

“I’ll do that after dinner before I go down on you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

The scene was almost set but, before Angie sat down, Johnston slid his hand up the inside of her leg and, this time, he inserted two fingers into her pussy and pressed his thumb onto her clit. He squeezed the membrane in between which caused Angie to spasm before she took hold on the sides of his head and leant over to kiss him full on the mouth. Thus set, Johnston beckoned the Maitre d’ to arrange for the Menus before cradling Angie’s hips and whispering in her ear, “You’re doin’ great!”

Although it was a splendid dinner the choice was light and everyone chose Turbot, steamed and served with a Hollandaise Sauce, preceded by a couple of roasted pigeons for the men and two duck terrines for the ladies. Johnston didn’t consult anyone on the wine selections but chose a Rose for the starters and a White Burgundy for the main course.

They finished off, after a couple of hours of easy-flowing conversation, with Crème Brules and champagne before retiring to the Penthouse Suite.

Over dinner Angie’s mind had been in turmoil with anticipation; she loved the idea of being dominated by Johnston and, unusually, felt comfortable with the role of a submissive. The semi-public intrusion into her body had aroused her to such an extent that if he’d told her to blow him, right there-and-then, she’d have dropped down and sucked.

However, once inside the Suite that’s almost exactly what happened except first, Johnston took hold of her waist, drew her in, pressed his body against hers, kissed her and, as she embraced him, he unzipped her dress allowing it fall to the floor and puddle round her ankles when they separated.

Angie stood like a statue of Venus; her feet about nine inches apart, her arms by her side, her breasts heaving as she breathed, her nipples filling with blood and her curves deserving of a centre-fold spread; what impressed her audience was the absolute confidence she radiated, not just for herself but for her situation, and, as her eyes steadied in a calm visage, she heard Johnston say, “Step out of your dress and kneel down.”

That’s what she did and, without any further prompting, she opened Johnston’s flies, eased out his balls and took hold of his cock, stroked a few times along its length and ran it over her face, on her forehead, down her nose, round her cheeks and, finally, slipped it between her lips.

Now it was Johnston’s turn to sigh as the lightness of her tongue combining with the tenderness of her mouth brought him to full hardness as she sucked around his glans.

Unusually, Johnston didn’t fuck her face; he just gave her the head to give him head and allowed himself to revel in her facility.

Soon, she sensed his expansion filling her mouth and he sensed, immediately, the vacuum she was pulling around his tool as her cheeks shrunk the space and her throat surrounded and engulfed him. He looked down and saw her lips splayed around his black knob and felt her tongue working on the head, poking into the eye, scraping around the cerise-tip and, bit-by-bit, found the business-end of his dick progressing into the depths of her craw and starting to slide behind her tonsils. Angie was comfortable but Johnston was in trouble: he didn’t want to cum too soon because he wanted the sensations spangling around his prong to go on.

Eventually, Angie felt his balls rise in their sac and a warm rush of fluid flowing into her throat but she kept on; massaging and milking his testicles and sucking out their effusions; bobbing her head up and down on his shaft and hollowing her cheeks to extract every drop from his scrotum.

It was her first Black man but it wasn’t her first cock-suck and Johnston felt as though he’d struck gold; white-gold and, so far, he had.

When he thought he’d recovered his aplomb he knelt to face Angie and kissed her; embracing her shoulders, running his hands down her back, cradling her flanks, pressing his dick onto her belly, feeling her tits point into his own and her lips and tongue laving around his mouth and then Johnston ejaculated: for the first time in his life his man-gear shot a load of passively inspired man-goo and Angie felt the heat as it landed on her belly.

Almost like a slave, she scooped it up, offered it first to her Master as if in a Communion Cup and, after he’d imbibed, she drank the rest.

Johnston was gone; he was solid gone and the emotional attachment to this passion-filled new woman was clear to both Jackson and Sappho, who were watching the exhibition, but, in girding himself, he realised he still had work to do to finish Angie’s preparation.

So they got to their feet and he led her to the bedroom where a Super-King-size bed awaited; he urged Angie to relax, sit on the end, lie back, raise her knees, spread her legs and wait. When Johnston came back from the bathroom he brought a towel, a face-cloth and an open, cut-throat razor.

He began by damping Angie’s pubic area and soaping it; all the time he was murmuring to comfort her and witnessing, at close-hand, the secretions weeping from her folds. Both Jackson and Sappho watched as he stroked the razor over her flesh, removing swathes of foam-encrusted hair and wiping them away on a tissue. After a first pass he swiped the damp face-cloth over her mound and re-soaped, re-shaved and, again, wiped her clean, all the time taking care not to leave any stray bristles that would interfere with his pleasure or his intentions.

All done, Angie felt a cool sensation engulfing her nether regions and a sense of nakedness she’d never known before. It felt good, so good she determined to maintain it and, further, to have wax-treatments if her Master wished; but, in any event, his close care and attention would be worth waiting for: even so, she imagined he’d prefer her to be ‘ready’ for him.

All of this was meandering through her mind as Johnston was doing the de-beavering and she was on the verge of drifting off when she felt his lips on her petals, his tongue reaming its way into her channel, his thumbs widening her vagina and his head pressing between her thighs.

Johnston was on Stage 3 of her initiation and she felt as though she was on a magic carpet floating at the mercy of the zephyrs and on the whim of the Gods. As her arousal continued Angie cupped her tits and rolled her fingers around the nipples; squeezing, twisting, plucking and nipping the nubs and willing them to ooze milk. Her eyes were closed; her head was spinning when she sensed a body settling over her face.

Without opening her eyes, she opened her mouth and, instinctively, sucked on Sappho’s pussy; another first, a double-first in fact, but another conjoining experience happened when Jackson completed the daisy-chain by sliding his big, black porker into Sappho’s mouth.

Angie’s oral abilities extended to sucking pussy as well as sucking cock and this young woman, naive is so many ways, was either a quick learner or a nascent-natural but, whatever her category, she was insatiable.

After she’d come on Johnston’s tongue her mouth, still on Sappho, opened involuntarily as the mass of his dick entered her slot; sliding upwards, onwards and inwards to her pink-chamber she felt the girth stretch her walls, the length continue to scrape all the way up to her cervix where it had to stop and, when the riding began, she felt as though a stallion had lost his mare and settled for the first soft-stop he could find. Yet, as her lover ploughed on, plunging in and out of her body, hugging her thighs, folding and re-folding her petals, pushing-in and pulling-out of her folds and generally introducing her to a whole new world of penetration, Angie lay back and abandoned herself to joy.

Sappho came in Angie’s mouth; it was her first time with a woman; Jackson splashed his semen onto Sappho’s tonsils and, as Angie reached up and hugged Sappho, she found her tits, squeezed her nipples and swallowed her nectar, Johnston erupted inside her belly, causing her to convulse and wrap her legs around his hips, before she came and he withdrew to allow a tsunami of spunk and lady-juice to rush from her pussy.

Still the preparation was incomplete and, with Johnston being Johnston, his stamina was driving him on to a conclusion. His next goal was to fuck Angie’s ass; whether she’d taken a man there or not was irrelevant but, privately, he hoped she was an anal-virgin.

There was no stopping for refreshments because Johnston didn’t need a rest, and he assumed no one else needed a rest, either, so he cleared everyone off the bed, lay over Angie, kissed her, told her she was doing a great job and, for the first time, addressed her tits with his hands and lips. This sent a tingle down Angie’s spine; so he got her to take-on the ‘primary doggy-position’: that was to kneel over, spread her knees, part her thighs, support herself on her hands, arch her back concave-down, lift her head, look forward, poke-out her tits and raise her backside.

Angie knew what was coming but felt unable to admit her ass was virgin-territory: so she kept quiet. For his part, Johnston took the early precaution of laving her bum; poking a hardened tongue into the opening, gradually relaxing her natural resistance and then applying some lubricant, smothering it on her sphincter and pressing first one, then two and, eventually, three fingers into her brown-hole; working them in and out, partly to acclimatise her to the new sensations but largely to stretch the muscles and relieve their tendency to resist anything going-in or coming-out of that orifice.

Angie was a perfect muse; just like Sappho, she remained in place, supine but alert, submissive but astute, silent, receptive and cooperative and eager to discover new and exotic ways of sexual gratification.

Preparing an ass for penetration is a skilled job; if it’s done without empathy the partner gets scared, if it’s done too quickly the muscles resist and cannot acclimatise: this causes discomfort and, often, acute pain. When this happens the session is over and that port-of-call gets an immediate embargo with ‘No Entry’ stamped permanently, irrevocably and psychologically, all over the lovemaking.

That didn’t happen; Johnston and Angie were new partners but, often, one expert is enough, and, that night, Angie entered the annals of anal intercourse with ‘flying colours’: it was something she took to like a ‘duck-to-water’ and, like many new entrants, once across the threshold, she became an addict for getting fucked-in-the-ass.

Johnston started by using his thumbs to open her flanks and aimed his cock at the centre of her brown starfish. All the time he kept the communications going, making sure Angie knew she was safe because she felt safe, that he cared for her and was reassuring her that she was doing just fine. Once the first ring of muscle was overcome he rested to allow her time to come to terms with his dick stretching her virgin pipeline. Then he pressed-on, occasionally dribbling more lube around his condom and sliding onwards, inwards and upwards into her bowels.

Angie was responsive; physically, verbally and emotionally and, as a pair, they were well-matched. Progress was slow and deliberate, but, eventually, the patience on each side was rewarded when Johnston got past the second sphincter and flowed-on to reach the limits of his cock-length. He was home now: his scrotum rested on her backside and Angie, feeling as though his dick was about to choke her, had lost her anal-virginity: she had become a ‘tri-athlete’ and, more so, she was comfortable with her new status.

In this company, that was just as well because Jackson was going to partner her when Johnston finished. However, before that his twin climbed onto her back, squatted over her haunches, gripped her shoulders and treated her to a new meaning of ‘doggy-style’. This guy was over 6’ tall, he weighed over 14 stones, his muscles were honed like a track athlete and he was pounding his new lover’s semi-virgin-asshole with all this power behind a huge dick and she was absorbing it like ink onto a blotter.

At the risk of neglecting Sappho, Jackson waited until Johnston had cum and, as his brother recovered some of his energy, he approached Angie’s mouth and fed his cock between her lips. Then they rocked her to another climax watching her heavy tits swaying in time with their movements. At this point, no one knew it was her first time in a ‘spit-roast’, but no one cared because no one resisted, and Angie was treated to another shot of semen into the condom nestling comfortably in her bum and a corresponding stream sliding down her gullet as the twins pulsed her body between them; to-and-fro, forwards and backwards, up and down, in and out.

At this point Johnston announced that Angie had become a ‘tri-athlete’; he congratulated her and called a ‘time-out’ for refreshments. The order of the day was to keep their electrolytes charged with chilled, sparkling mineral water, spliced with lemon, as a partial remedy; except, once again, Johnston took the initiative and called downstairs to order sweets and coffee. Jackson piled-in to crack-open a bottle of Cognac and, after each had dispersed to shower, they all gathered again, this time in the Drawing Room.

Everyone was wearing a thin cotton bath-robe and the curves of Angie’s breasts were peeping out of the opening, her nipples were standing proud on her swollen mounds; the guys’ prongs were not visible but their hardness was and Sappho was comfortable just witnessing the new arrangement. That was when Johnston told Angie to enjoy her liqueur because she would soon be back on active service.

The coffee was good and it went well with the Cognac and desserts; sugar, caffeine and alcohol are reliable, quick-acting, stimulants and neither of the guys wanted either of the girls to go to sleep on the job.

After half an hour, or so, Johnston got up and came across to kiss Angie. He asked her how she was feeling and if she could continue? On her nod, he took her hand and they went back to the bedroom where Johnston slipped-off her gown and Jackson approached her front to hold, kiss and stimulate her tits, cup her ass, pull apart her cheeks and press his body against hers. Meanwhile, Johnston went behind, where he dropped to his knees and poked his tongue, for the second time, into her brown hole.

With a man in front and one behind Angie knew what to expect and reckoned another first was in the offing. Nevertheless, she felt good in their hands so she relaxed and responded by taking hold of Jackson’s dick; she felt it stiffen and poke into her belly so, without any further foreplay, Jackson moved back to the bed and drew her with him: Johnston moved in-sync and she found herself sandwiched between her two lovers.

As Jackson lay back she spread herself on top and a small adjustment allowed him to slip his cock into her pussy and, by keeping open her bum-cheeks, he made room for Johnston to lube-up and get into her ass again. Angie was experiencing for the first time how a Double Penetration works and, after her cognac, coffee and sweets, she was curious, revitalised and alert.

She moaned as Johnston entered her asshole; it was more restricted than before so he made slower progress and she began to feel a new sense of friction as he slid-in over the membrane separating his cock from his brother’s. This time entry was both easier and more difficult; first, the tightness in her hole had gone; not because her muscles were more relaxed but because her mind was more relaxed and that took-away the tension; but, second, there was only so much space to accommodate both guys and that space was pretty-well filled. Nevertheless, Jackson remained passive, holding her still and stimulating her with kisses, his tongue reaching deep into her mouth, lips engulfing hers and his massive dick keeping her pinioned inside the channel just below the one his brother was plumbing.

For Johnston’s part, he was almost there and Angie was experiencing dreamland as, for the first time, two big dicks nestled deep inside her body and, soon, another kaleidoscope of sensations descended on her as the shafting began. When the action started Johnston withdrew partially and re-entered partially; then he started the pumping motion that would bring him and her, as well as his brother, to a shuddering climax.

It was at this point that Angie became addicted to cock, Black cock, anal intercourse and DP.

Sappho was getting hotter as she saw the effects of their work on Angie; she saw this fresh, new, young, white, female frame get pummelled between two big, black, masculine bodies: and, after she’d emptied her snifter, eaten her cake, fingered her own bald pussy and caressed her own clit, she thought it tempting to nip them together but opted to content herself by increasing their slipperiness and enjoying the show.

When the threesome climaxed Angie twisted, shuddered then spasmed; the guys groaned when their muscles contracted and they expelled their load into her body as the rhythm brought them all to a harmonious closure: but, for Sappho, things were already starting to feel different.

After they’d all exploded Johnston left-off Angie but Jackson continued. He used her in the ‘supine doggy-position’ and got her to kneel, head down, knees well-spread, tits just scraping the bedclothes with her hands peeling-apart her buttocks. Then, from out of the bedding, Jackson heard her muffled call; “I’m ready for you, Master,” and his lone sojourn began.

Angie’s asshole had softened and, because there’d been a lot of work on it, the muscle hadn’t had a chance to recover; so it remained slightly agape. A dark pit was visible in the centre of her puckering-inlet and the guys recognised that as a good sign. There was no chance she’d lost any of her elasticity, it would soon recover: but not tonight!

Jackson squirted some lube into and around the hole; then he rubbered-up, knelt behind her, aimed the end of his cock at the crinkly bit and pressed. His dick slid-in like a hot-knife-through-butter causing Angie to gasp at the speed, the girth and the length but, also, at Jackson’s gentleness, which was in stark contrast to his brother. However, she was shaping up to become Johnston’s bitch yet, right now; this tenderness was a welcome relief.

Tenderness exemplified everything Jackson did and, soon, he set up a gentle motion that comforted the recent ass-virgin; correspondingly, as in everything Angie did, she responded with a passion and an enthusiasm that blended perfectly with her newly acquired form of submissiveness.

Jackson took it long and slow; he was in no hurry and Angie wasn’t going anywhere except, perhaps, to a new level of erotic consciousness. Right now, she was moaning gently, entering a new galaxy, rippling her muscles whenever she could and, through her alertness, responding to her lover.

After what seemed like an age, Jackson crouched behind her flanks, leaned on her shoulders, raked-back his length, reintroduced it and, eventually, brought both of them to completion.

Angie was exhausted, Johnston was triumphant, Jackson was satisfied and Sappho was considering her position when both Jackson and Johnston approached her, kissed her, stripped her and moved her to the bed.

Angie rolled over to make room and turned to watch as Sappho was treated to one of the most intense fuck-fests she’d ever imagined. The rigor surprised Sappho, the vigour amazed her and the energy stimulated her and, if truth be known, their use and abuse shamed her for harbouring ‘prima-donna-tendencies’ at the introduction of this bright, new, young woman.

All-in-all, Sappho was experiencing a new regime, a new order, and it was something for her to come to terms with emotionally as well as physically and to grasp the idea that, whereas things were evolving apace, she remained a key-player in the new arrangement.

Anyway, for the moment, emotions, philosophies, reflections and all other considerations were beside the point because the sheer force of the physicality was dominating everything and Sappho’s ass, pussy and mouth were getting reamed and creamed in a series of single and double penetrations; her tits were mauled, sucked, bitten and nipped; her lips were repeatedly squashed and mashed and her body was bathed in sweat until, towards the end, she was showered in a lather of semen by both men.

Meanwhile, Angie was watching and waiting; ready to respond to the call. When it came, it surprised her because it was to the bathroom where a jet-tub was prepared and another bottle of chilled champagne sat on ice.

All four of them soaked, relaxed, drank and accepted that a new union was being formed between the old-group and the new-arrival and then they went to bed: together.

Of course there was plenty of action between the new-blood and the guys overnight but Angie found herself in ‘seventieth-heaven’ and was as receptive in the bed as she had been on the bed.

The next morning was a bright and sunny day and, amazingly, everyone woke early; everyone had an appetite and everyone was eager to see what the next 24 hours would hold. First up was showering, then breakfast and Johnston called down to arrange for ‘everything-times-four’ to be delivered to the Penthouse Suite and set up on the veranda.

They all gathered in the early morning sunshine in their thin cotton robes and Johnston served the coffee and OJ before they helped themselves to the eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes and etc. etc. preceded by fruits, cereals and, afterwards, by pastries, more coffee and orange juice.

As Angie was settling into her new set-up, her gown fell open and she found herself bemused; stroking her bald pussy, fingering her flaps and stimulating her clitoris; all of this was entirely subconscious but it didn’t escape the notice of her new friends.

“Are you ok playing with yourself or would you like me to lend you a hand?” came from Johnston.

“Oh, my Ga’ad, I’m so sorry; I hope I haven’t offended anyone!”

“Well, no one was offended but I’d sure like to get a bit more of what you got there!”

“Ok, well, be my guest; I love your dick!”

With that Johnston got up, moved over to Angie and, as he kissed her, his hand slipped into her robe and cupped her globe: Angie responded instinctively, her hands left her pussy and circled his head as her tongue fought with his to win oral dominance.

“Ok, stand up and lean over the railing.

“Now, I’m gonna give you a choice: do you want me in a packet in your ass or would you like my stuff to run down your legs?”

“Wow; what a choice; well, you know I just ‘lurve’ you in my ass but I also like to feel your cum inside me and I’ve never had anyone’s stuff running down my legs. Can we try that?”

So, as Angie placed her hands on the rails and spread her legs, her breasts hung forward and Johnston took hold of her gown and raised it over her hips, tucking it into her belt. There she stood; proud, patient and expectant while Johnston opened his own bathrobe, took hold of his stallion-like cock and approached her haunches. This morning he was tender and, as his hands settled on the bare flesh of her hips, Angie twitched in anticipation and adjusted her stance, making her tits sway gently under her breast.

She felt Johnston’s erection make contact and, instantly, spilled some pussy juice that ran out of her in a long, thin, stalactite-like string that oozed from her petals and caught on Johnston’s dick as he approached. It all helped to ease his entry which was slow, slow and slow, slow, slow but it was progressive and, long before he got to her buffers, Angie had already taken her first orgasm. Her next one forced her to moan, squeeze-tight-shut her thighs and clamp herself around his tool all the way along its length. This had a profound effect on Johnston and, after he’d shot his load into her womb, he leaned over her back, cupped her tits, kissed her neck, nibbled her ears and started to rock her to another orgasm and a one after that. He was still hard and she was still wet, both were still unfinished but, fortunately, the moans and the groans were carried away on the wind.

Meanwhile, Sappho and Jackson were watching and they, too, were hot but neither sought to spoil the show by creating a diversion. Now that the epilogue was in full swing, things changed and Sappho dropped down to swallow Jackson before giving an ‘exhibition’ on oral sex. Sappho was good and, whereas this was no competition, everyone had skills, everyone had needs and everyone was there to enjoy.

When the final climax arrived and Johnston withdrew a flood poured out of Angie and, as it was draining away, she turned, a little unsteadily, and moved back to her chair. She was utterly exhausted, emotionally as well as physically, but she was still responsive and, now, with her tits hanging out and her nipples fully engorged and fully exposed, almost instinctively, she reacted to the need to maintain physical contact by raising her feet and resting them in Johnston’s lap, nestling them either side of his prick. Meanwhile, the surge from her pussy had abated but the results were spread all over her thighs; her fingers were busy playing in the sludge and she was contemplating whether to scoop-it-up and sip it. Eventually, she did and, since she was actually able to savour the taste for the first time, she became aware of how sweet it was; there was no bitterness only a slight saltiness that offset the spangle of sugar.

They’d all eaten well and engaged well over breakfast but, whereas they could fuck all day, they chose not to so, after bathing and swapping into casual clothes, they met in the Drawing Room before winding their way to the ground floor via the elevator.

As usual, the guys were dressed in polos, chinos and yachting shoes and the girls in micro-skirts, polos and trainers and neither wore panties or bras. As they left the hotel they walked hand-in-hand; Johnston and Angie ahead and Jackson and Sappho bringing up the rear. Privately, Jackson was glad that Johnston had introduced Angie because he thought it improved his chances of isolating Sappho for himself: so, it was on more than one-front that separatist ideas arose: perhaps this was an exemplar of human nature at its worst?

Since they were right in the ‘Downtown’ all the shops were on hand and, girls-being girls, that’s what took their interest; it wasn’t beyond the guys to expect this and both had come armed with credit cards and a willingness to shower them with goodies; they both deserved it, especially Angie.

So, since that’s all they wore, dresses and shoes were targeted.

Each young woman got back to the hotel with a striking choice of garments and equally stylish shoes; Angie brought a backless, figure-hugging, black micro-dress, slashed to the waist and panelled with sequins down what there was of the bodice. Sappho chose a white-on-black polka-dot print, again, micro- and backless, but, this time, with a halter-neck that scooped just above her nipples and left most of her tits exposed. Like Angie, she chose black stilettos and both had acquired black hold-up stockings.

Their gentlemen were lining up an evening at a nightclub and, to keep them on high-alert, they wanted to see them wiggle their tits as well as their asses. So, after swapping partners for the afternoon, they dressed, had dinner, and went onto the club. Naturally, this was a ‘Black Night Club’; a place where the twins were well-known to both the proprietors and most of the clientele.

Johnston hadn’t booked anything but, on arrival, the Manager was called and, immediately, he arranged an alcove for them with a bottle of champagne ‘on-the-house’. The Cabaret was interesting; a female singer, dressed in a gown that exposed almost everything, crooned for a while before a couple came out and fucked-live on-stage. The guy was enormous and, by comparison, his partner was tiny, but she had big tits and she took all of his horse-meat in her mouth, in her pussy and in her ass; this was a no-holds-barred performance but, just before leaving the stage, another well-hung man came out, mounted her, and joined them in a Double-DP, then a spit-roast.

Afterwards, the dancing started and these people could move; all of the ladies were spectacularly outfitted and most of them were astonishingly beautiful; their tits and asses were jiggling around and, on seeing the action, both Angie and Sappho were aroused and restless enough to hit the floor.

So, they danced, and, as white ladies, they attracted a lot of attention and all of it was good attention due, largely, to the reputation of one of the twins.

Soon, the champagne was gone and Jackson ordered a bottle of cognac before, at about 2 o’clock in the morning, they headed back to the hotel.

“You wanna earn your collar?” Johnston aimed at Angie.

“Sure! What do I have to do? Fetch a ball?”

“You have to take a whipping!”

That stalled Angie in her tracks, the smile faded from her face and, as she did a double-take, it dawned on her that he was serious and she remembered the option to say, “No!”

“Yes, Master; I wanna earn my Collar!”

Johnston approached her, held her waist, drew her in and kissed her: the kiss held more than genuine passion; it held huge respect and, as this exuded from the kiss, Angie was swept up into an emotional momentum and, once again, she placed herself at his mercy.

Johnston was rarely merciful and tonight was to be no exception. As he saw it, a ‘Collar’ is a ‘Collar’ and earning it meant earning it; there were no freebies and no shortcuts.

He told her to turn around so he could slip-off her dress and to leave on her stockings and shoes. Angie obeyed and stood as still as a statue, waiting for further instructions.

The settees were part of a traditional set of furniture; over-upholstered, over-stuffed and high-backed, and there were a few of them in the Sitting Room with plenty of space to their rear.

Johnston took Angie’s hand and led her to the seating area; he ushered her to lean over, settle her tits on the cushions, spread her legs and then stretch her arms along the back. He was in no hurry, recognising that anticipation is a large part of heightening the anxiety, so, he and Jackson left the room, ostensibly to find the new crops but largely to work out how the lashing would happen.

Meanwhile, Sappho sat in an armchair, expressionless, sipping a cognac and showing no emotion. Although Angie wasn’t able to look around, she sensed, rather that saw, Sappho and wondered if this was part of the plan or whether she, too, had been conditioned into role-play in this way.

Nonetheless, her situation was existential and, at that moment, her lovers returned, unclothed, and, without any further ado, they laid into her backside. Johnston took the first swipe across her ass and Angie had never felt a pain like it. Nothing could stop her crying out: it wasn’t just a shock; it was an agonising surprise as the sting ran through her body like an electric bolt. The intensity of the impact stunned her conscious mind and, as everything shifted to her subconscious mind, she lost control of her actions and was left to the fate of her instinctive reactions.

Then Jackson climbed in from the other side; now there were two red wheals across her bottom and soon, a third, a fourth and on-and-on until about thirty bright-red stripes criss-crossed her flanks; all nicely concentrated on her bum-cheeks which, although, saving her thighs from bruising, focused all the damage, and all of the pain, in a narrow strip.

Angie was out-of-it; she was perspiring, saliva was dribbling from her mouth, mucus ran out of her nose, tears flowed from her eyes but her tits had gone hard, her nipples were swollen and her pussy was secreting slime like water over a weir: there were fluids emerging from every pore yet, despite her agony, she’d remained in situ; she’d held post and, if she’d been wearing any clothes, it might have been appropriate to pin a medal on her breast.

However, in the circumstances, that wasn’t deemed to be a good idea!

Yet it was an erotic prospect to fuck her and, momentarily, a guilt-syndrome crossed the guy’s minds that it would be an obscene act. However, that was swiftly dismissed and both Johnston, who went first, fucked Angie in the pussy and then, taking sloppy-seconds, Jackson followed suit and Angie experienced ‘use and abuse’ at first-hand.

Of course, she was aware of the intrusion but had no capacity to resist yet, strangely, she welcomed her treatment and the attention lavished on her but she was not debased and, soon, felt herself lifted and carried to the bathroom where medication was applied to her flanks. Then she was immersed in a hot bath, allowed to recover and, after being dried off, had balsam applied before being taken to the bed she shared with Sappho and the boys.

Angie slept: she was only semi-conscious from the moment she left the settee and, by the time she hit the sheets, she was hibernating like a dormouse and would stay that way until the next day.

As hot as the boys were Sappho matched them and, since libidos were running high on all-three fronts, Sappho got fucked to near-death in the aftermath of Angie’s initiation. Her mouth, pussy and asshole were plundered and filled; her tits were squashed and sucked; her body was sprayed with semen and her face and lips were kissed and sucked in a frenzied orgy of rampant sex.

Sure, Sappho was fucked solid and she was fucked solidly during the night, too, but, when morning broke, she found herself in a ‘double-decker-sandwich’: an exotic foursome with Johnston on the bottom lying underneath Angie and embedded in her ass; Sappho was lying face down, head-to-tail, on top of Angie and Jackson was embedded in Sappho’s ass.

With nowhere to go, both women were induced to lean into the space between the legs of her opposite number and suck pussy. It worked; all four got off to a high, and, if it was a drowsy one it was also a wet one: so, as Angie gradually recovered her senses, her memories came back along with the ache on her flanks. Her ass was stiff; the skin was tight, crusted and bruised; in places it was broken and, all over, it felt stretched and on the point of tearing but there was something else: when Angie finally came-to she found she’d been collared; not once but twice. The J-twins had each brought their own restraints and, to Angie’s delight, her ‘medal’ had been awarded; she’d won her colours; she’s earned her spurs and she’d established her status.

She was now officially a ‘Bitch’: the accolade given to a Black man’s girlfriend.

Sappho had effected a reunion and facilitated a replacement: now it was time to move on. The opportunity would soon arise when she was invited to sit on a Panel at the City Gallery and it was one she would grasp with both hands.