The Collarseum Club

He entered the room where I waited to greet him. It was where I was to wait to greet him when he got home from work, naked, upon my knees and ready to serve him in any way he wished. I was his, I wore his collar. I had heard him enter quietly, the door closing shortly after his footfalls, cloth brushing the wooden frame. I had not dared to look or move, I did not want to be out of place. He had paused in the outer rooms longer than usual today, making me wait, I supposed, enjoying my anticipation. I kept still, head down, as he approached me. "Hello, my slut", he growled "Hello my Master", I chirped, smiling as he lifted my chin that I might see him. He tasted my lips gently at first, then began to consume them hungrily. "I have an appetite tonight, slut" "Would you like me to fetch your dinner?", I asked as I removed his work pants, my fingers working quickly over the belt buckle, button, and zipper. He stepped out of them as I held

THE LUSTFUL TURK Or Scenes in the Harum of an Eastern Potentate faithfully and vividly depicting in a series of letters from a young and beautiful English lady to her friend in England the full particulars of her ravishment and of her complete abandonment to all the salacious tastes of the Turks, the whole being described with that zest and simplicity which always gives guarantee of authenticity. LETTER 1 Emily Barlow to Sylvia Carey Portsmouth, Crown Hotel 18 June 1814 Dearest Sylvia We arrived here early this morning after a most melancholy journey. Time alone can remove the painful impressions which the appearance of poor Henry created as we parted. Never shall I forget the picture of despair he exhibited. Do all you can to comfort him, tell him although I obey my mother's and my uncle's wishes, still my heart in every clime will be true to him. Poor Eliza did everything in her power on the road to this place to amuse my wounded feelings, but it was be