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It has worked, thus far.”“With so many Elves and Dwarves in one place,” Elessir continued, “the slightest provocation could be the spark that ignites a blaze impossible to quench with anything but blood.”“I could only wish,” Tarien added, “that I had known of the Dwarves’ strength before bringing the legions here.”Smythe eyed the man. “Are you saying you would not have come? Surely you knew we would be fighting alongside the Dwarves sooner or later. It is inevitable.” Again, Solovir nodded.“We would still have come,” Tarien replied. “Though we would have prepared ourselves for treachery. The Dwarves are cunning, and should not be trusted.” He cast a regretful glance at Smythe. “I apologise, friend, I know you have your hopes set on overcoming the Heralds with our help, but our success - our participation - will depend on the Dwarves’ integrity.”Smythe grunted. The Elves were now making him cast doubts on this entire undertaking. He hadn’t considered what might happen if the Dwarves. He saw my makeup. He came up to the side of my bed and asked what the hell it was all about.Now my dad is an intimidating man, 6”4” muscular, toned, in his mid forties, about 220 lbs, with short black hair. He came up to the side of my bed and pulled away the covers, only to discover his son, dressed as a high-class whore. He kind of jumped back, looked at my body and then in my eyes. He just shook his head and walked out the door and into the hall muttering "my son is a fag” over and over. I could hear him start the shower, and then I heard him step in.I was just lying there in bed, kind of ashamed that he had caught me in this predicament, I heard the shower turn off, and then I heard his bathroom door open. What I heard next was a surprise.“Son, will you please come in here?” my father said without the slightest hint of animosity in his voice. I don’t know why, but I had still not changed from my costume as I walked into his room. He sat there on his bed, completely naked and.
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She smiled at the top of the ladder. ‘Thank you for that as well. I’ve fantasised about just that for some time.’ And she was away, leaving me stunned, sated and very, very happy. I had my doubts about any repeats of Jasmine’s behaviour, but Julia knew her daughter. After taking a couple of days for the weals to go down, Jasmine was back. She took Rory, a high-spirited young horse, and, when she had hoisted herself into the saddle, gave the horse a quick tap on the haunch with her crop. A new riding crop, I noticed. A bit longer than her old one, with a little leather tab on the end. She watched for my reaction and guided Rory out, into the field. I stayed watching from the gate while I called Julia on my mobile. ‘You were right. She’s on Rory, and she’s already used the crop a few times.’‘I’ll be right down,’ was the sharp response before she ended the call. Minutes later she was climbing the ladder, this time dressed in thin leggings rather than her usual riding breeches. I’m sure.

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