“I told you I hate pantyhose.”
“First, they are thigh highs, and, second, they are Wolfords,” Caroline said. Caroline had insisted we all get dolled up for our ‘Valentine’s No Men’ evening as she booked us a table at the most expensive restaurant in town. “I do not,” I quickly refuted, even as I felt the heat in my cheeks rising. “Oh, I’m pretty confident,” Jill countered. She had at least a dozen strap-ons. She walked to Jill and put the contraption with a cock on Jill’s head. “Answer me, my little slut, or I will punish you with making you serve Aunt Marilyn using punishments from ‘Spanked to Submission’,” Caroline threatened. Caroline had insisted we all get dolled up for our ‘Valentine’s No Men’ evening as she booked us a table at the most expensive restaurant in town. By the end of the evening, each of us had a dress that you would wear purely to draw attention, with matching heels and new lace undies.
