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Michelle was choking on her soda and before she might clear her throat enough to question Helga, the black-clad Mistress had regained her composure. Michelle smiled at Greg, positive he was going to get his due. Helga uncoiled the whip and let it move over her tanned legs. She increased the work up and let it snake around her body. Greg became aroused by her sensuous motions while at the same time ending up being frightened at the idea of her using it on him. His fears ended up being large terror as she brought the whip over her head, placed her foot towards him, and let fly with fifteen feet of leather. She totally missed him and managed to lose a lock of her colored hair in addition to clip her ear. The scream Helga discharged surprised Greg and Michelle to the point that they were able not to make fun of her.

Helga stomped and dropped the whip over to her toy table, her eyes daring Michelle to comment. She chose a small black pouch and strolled over to Greg, self-confidence flashing on her face. Michelle was about to comment when Helga swore and tore the upside-down cockbag off and tossed it throughout the space. Michelle felt a minute of pity and waited for Helga to go back to her toy table. While Helga was picking a new toy of pain, Michelle wrapped her ruby lipstick lips around Greg shandy tool and drew softly.

Helga agreed because she was hoping that sex may clean out Michelle's memory of her real nature. Michelle agreed to herself since she was extremely horny and hadn't had sex in at least 4 hours. Greg pulled Michelle's flimsy excuse for a swimwear top off and aimed his mouth for her tanned silver dollar size nipples. Greg pressed Michelle down to her back and parted her legs with his thighs. Well, he thought he was parting Michelle's legs but in truth Michelle's legs quite much part on their own.

At this moment, a black-clad shadowy figure stepped through the basement window and hid behind a group of boxes. Her shimmering Asian eyes looked from her mask while her beautiful black hair fell around her shoulders, oblivious to any typical sense relating to hair buns on Ninjas. A razor-sharp metal pointy thing was in her hand, prepared for the very first clean shot on the young whorehouse madam.

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