“I can’t run in these!” I said. “Why can’t I have boots like Naomi?” Hers were flat ankle tops.
“Because you piss me off!” Stana said. “You say that you don’t want to be here, but you act like you do. That’s why.” She squatted down and started to grease up the butt and v****a plugs for their particular holes.
The party up on the veranda got louder. Eleanor now strolled amongst them, dressed in the same dom outfit that I met her in at the Leather Heel. She said something which was followed by agreeing shouts from the partiers of “Pony! Pony!”
“Y’know, you might be telling the truth, or you might be lying just to get back in good with Eleanor,” Stana said.
“I’m not lying. I’m no – uhhh!” The butt plug found its home. I needed something, some kind of proof that Stana could check out and k
