Then THEY showed up. There were four. One was obviously submissive, even more than me, but three real power types. One was almost six feet tall and clearly not used to power attire. That said, she had definite presence. One was not even five feet. I recognized her. She was one of the owners—Francine Martel, the Broadway diva. She can whip my pussy anytime.All that pales beside the third of their group. Remember this name—Cynthia. You may not have seen the catalog yet, but you will. Mistress Cynthia did the cover shot. Oh. My. God. I am so jealous. This guy Jason does not know how lucky he was. Cynthia was wearing a mask and lying back, letting the other two take the lead. The submissive was clearly Hers, even though she spent most of her time with the tall one. There was a sorry scene in progress. Some wannbe had hired a hooker to play submissive. It was just sad.Anyway, Miss Martel pushed Mistress Cynthia forward. It was like some kind of test. It took a couple of prods, but the. Warmth????Where did this beautiful warm air come from? “Oh, I’m warm. Finally I’m warm!” she said to no one. “God! I am warm! I feel it, God! I do!I’m WARM.”Corrine noticed that even her tears felt warm... “What tears?” ... and then she heard it more clearly.That sound... ... the one she sought and couldn’t quite identify.It was laughter. She heard her own voice joining the laughter with indescribable joy. The warmth that suffused her entire soul burst from her in lovely laughter. Cheers of kindness, thanksgiving, and sweet release flowed out of her mouth as she merged into the bright sunshine... ... and into the arms of the Bright and Morning Son.The soft earth became a luxurious carpet under her feet. Corrine skipped along a flowered path singing, crying, praying, and laughing all at once. In the pandemonium of praise, Corrine saw a swarm of butterflies floating on gossamer wings, circling the path ahead.Her laughter exploded, as she chased them across a meadow that had suddenly.
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