I was pleased and relieved at her response. Laying back on the pillow, I said, "Pleasure me, slave." She started orally, and I pulled her up on top of me, letting her do the work. Kneeling up, she slid my cock slowly into her cunt, gripping tightly with her sweet muscles. The woman obviously paid attention to her Kegal exercises.

Sliding up and down, she rode me slowly. I thought of 'icicles and waterfalls', something an early mate taught me as a form of self-control. It only works so long; the icicles melt and the water starts to boil. Stella's hot body was my playground, as I twisted her nipples and teased her clit with my fingers. I felt her climax several times as we fucked. No... we didn't fuck, we made love. Slowly. Sensuously. An hour. Hour and a half. Some long, indeterminable time. We drifted to sleep, still in each others' arms.

Morning came, and I woke up early for some reason. Easing out of bed, I logged on to security cams and checked on the prisoner. "X" was still in bondage, and appeared unconscious. His body did not show any signs of damage, but I knew Mom had not been cruel. I imagine she used some of the methods she learned when working for that dictator in South America, but I didn't want to know.

Suddenly I realized Stella was looking over my shoulder. "Boy, you can't even tell he was tortured," she said. "I hope they hurt him bad, motherfucker."

I looked at her, a little startled. This was a side of Stella I had not seen before. Vindictive did not suit her, and surprised me a little. I realized how little I knew about her. And how much I cared.

Taking her in my arms, I kissed her deeply. We walked into the playroom, and I put her onto my rack, pulling her more tightly than she had been downstairs. And we started over where we were interrupted.