The Mansion had not been lived in for the past 15 years, since the death of the last Clinton. The woman Phillip had been following, was not related to...the Clinton's, as far as I knew.I sighed, and climbed the wall. I paused at the top, and looked around. I looked down and saw deep depressions of where someone had landed heavily, when they had come over the wall.I landed lightly. I started walking towards the Mansion proper, and stopped. I felt something. I looked with my 'second sight', and. I reeled in shock. They were going to roast us, shit, what kind of sick fuckers were these people? I might have coped with life as a sex slave, at least it was life. But they were going to cook us. Fucking hell, roast us alive….in an oven. Then they’d eat us, or what? My god, I realised, we were going to die. As I struggled to come to terms with what I’d just heard, my minder grabbed me from behind, holding my arms tightly. He pulled me up from the table, and held me. I couldn’t kick, my legs. I whispered to him, " Its alright. It really makes me feel good. " He closed his eyes and with shaking hands he squeezed my firm tits and played with the nipples. I sighed in pleasure, and rubbed my ass against his crotch. I was wearing a short skirt and it had raised up so that only my pink silk panties were rubbing against him. I pulled my tee shirt up over my head and turned around to face him. He looked very horny, but still very reluctant. I straddled him. I rubbed my sweet pussy against. It sat right in the middle of the spacious bathroom. Gold lion head taps were set into brass pipes running up from the floor, so that water flowed into it in the middle of the tub. This infinitely practical design feature meant that neither of them, sitting opposite one another with legs entwined, sweet smelling bubbles foaming around their knees and shoulders, had to suffer the discomfort of leaning back and bumping their head on the hard edges of a tap. Or have cold droplets of water dribble.
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