In any event, though, Alyssa’s bath-time was only the beginning of Brad’s regimen of daily service. After toweling her dry, the meekly naked boy brushed out her long black hair as she sat nude and curvy and smooth before the mirror of her dressing table, her n*****s pointed though the room was never in the least bit cold. She seemed to enjoy watching him. Sometimes, at her bidding, he draped one necklace or another about her naked collarbones. Often, in a mocking echo of the penetration for his poor body longed so desperately, he would press the clasps of her earrings into the tiny holes of her delicate lobes, watching the tender flesh stretch slightly before the golden hooks finally pushed through to the other side. Then he applied a dab of perfume behind each ear and one upon her throat.
