‘You want one or two?’ Trevor shouted, leaning heavily against the Riveras’ fridge.
‘What do you think?’ Andrew replied.
‘I’ll bring three,’ Trevor chuckled and snatched up half a dozen beers. After stumbling back to the cabin in the evening gloom they had decided to raid the cabin’s fridge, which was fortunately stocked with plenty of booze.
Staggering back into the lounge, Trevor dumped his haul onto the coffee table and dropped heavily into a chair. Despite the fact that Andrew was blurry at the edges and the room swayed like a ship on rough seas, Trevor didn’t hesitate in opening a bottle and taking a deep swig.
Opposite, Andrew was peering at his bottle quizzically. ‘What is this stuff?’
Trevor shrugged. ‘Dunno. Some local brand I guess. It’s not bad.’
‘What’s with the different colours?’
Trevor hadn’t noticed before, but the caps of each bottle varied in colour. The one he’d picked was a black cap, while Andrew’s was deep red. Again he shrugged. ‘Does it matter? Beer’s beer. Just drink the damn thing.’
While Andrew sampled his drink, Trevor thought he heard a girlish giggle coming from Nancy and Josh’s quarters. It was far too juvenile to be Nancy, that was for sure. Listening for it again, he heard nothing and put it down to too much drink. Not that it stopped him taking another quaff.
‘Bit quiet, ain’t it?’ Andrew said.
‘I’d call it relaxing. You know how things are – the kids are probably all hanging out in one cabin and Nancy and Melissa are bound to be having a girly night with the others.’
Andrew raised his bottle in a mock toast. ‘I’m all for that. As long as it keeps the kids and Felicity from bothering me, I’m in.’
An insult rose in Trevor’s throat but he knocked it back with another swig. God, he really hated Andrew sometimes. Most of the time he was a decent laugh, but whenever the topic of his family came up he invariably highlighted how much of a dick he really was. Whether it be demeaning Felicity, boasting about Brad or outright insulting Philip, he never had anything good to say about them.
Having said that, Andrew’s blatantly poor attitude to his family, though frustrating, swelled Trevor with pride: he was a much better husband and father. After all, he always made space for Melissa to read her books and head off on her spa weekends, for Cade to go out with his friends and for Ashley to spend time with Spencer, all the while occupying himself with his puzzle books and television. Considerate and efficient, he liked to think.
As far as he was concerned it was perfectly clear why the Rivera family was happier than the Weavers: Andrew simply didn’t know how to be a father like he did.
What sounded like the patter of bare feet upstairs caught Trevor’s ear and again he strained to listen. But the wind had picked up outside and it had set the cabin creaking, drowning out the noise, if it had ever been there at all.
‘I’d get something for that grey if I were you, dude,’ Andrew piped up. ‘You look like you’ve just come in from a blizzard.’
‘What? Andy, you’re pissed.’
‘No I’m not,’ Andrew slurred. ‘I mean some girls like the grey – does Melissa?’
‘Seriously Andy, I’m not that grey, just a few patches here and – holy shit!’ Having turned to the mirror over the fireplace he was startled to find his hair shining silver. The back and top were shot through with it, but his fringe and temples had lost all their colour. His hair had cropped shorter too – only that morning he’d mused that he needed a haircut, yet now he sported a close cut capped by a stubby forelock.
‘What the…?’ Before he could finish his sentence his eyes bulged and his heart stuttered in shock: a beard was rapidly lining his jaw. Neat and laced with silver it swept over his chin, complemented by an emerging stubble moustache.
‘You need a shave too,’ Andrew chuckled distantly.
‘No, you idiot, something’s wrong! Something’s changing me!’ Turning back to Andrew, Trevor’s already swollen eyes threatened to tumble from his skull. ‘And you too!’
Too busy finishing off his beer, Andrew was oblivious to the dramatic transformation he was undergoing. His short, pale hair was cascading down in inky locks to drape over contracting shoulders, while the hair on his legs was rapidly receding as his expanding thighs stretched the material of the shorts he wore.
‘What you on about?’ Andrew said through a burp, failing to notice the elevated pitch of his voice.
‘Andy, feel your hair.’
Shrugging, the drunk man did so and let out a shriek. Suddenly sober, Andrew clawed at his growing hair frantically. ‘Oh my god! What the fuck is this? What’s going on? OH!’
To Trevor’s surprise, Andrew’s cry was orgasmic. His back arced and his eyes rolled as the material of his shirt ballooned out, quickly splitting it at the seams to reveal a colossal rack contained in a black lace bra. Andrew’s new tits jiggled erratically as he writhed, his hands roving over his shifting figure even as his nails grew and fingers became delicate and feminine.
At the same time Trevor too continued to morph. Though the alterations were neither as drastic nor as pleasurable they swelled raw power through him unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel his body tightening, toning, burning the pounds at an impossible rate. As his frame cut into an athletic shape, fresh muscle rippled under tanned flesh. Holding out one arm Trevor howled in fear as he watched the flab solidify into veiny muscle fibre. Wheeling back to the mirror he found an unfamiliar face staring back at him, suave and chiselled.
Briefly, his attention was distracted by a sudden burst of pleasure in his trousers. An unfamiliar weight now hung between his legs, a weight which started to swell in response to Andrew’s moans.
Looking up he found Andrew convulsing with pleasure, though had anybody else laid eyes on the buxom woman they would never have identified her as the Weaver father. Large, alluring eyes somehow managed to draw one’s attention away from her astonishing body, which was an impressive feat given her huge fat tits, thick supple thighs and curves the most plastic bimbo would envy.
Andrew’s clothes had morphed along with his body. Now stunning lace lingerie accentuated his figure and a sheer black kimono hung about his shoulders as he squirmed on the sofa.
Laying eyes on the woman a surprising thought overtook Trevor: God, I want to punish her.
Trevor started at the invasive thought. Where did that come from?
Despite his shock, his trousers twitched as the thought took root. Yes. She needs to feel the sting of my hand on her ass. I want to hear her scream.
With a start Trevor realised he was losing himself to his new body. Power burned like lightning through his veins, slicing through his mind and corrupting his thoughts. His anger at Andrew twisted into a desire to punish the woman he had become, yet simultaneously his memories of the man faded away. In short order the memory of himself had vanished too and Trent had taken his place.
The woman had not noticed him. She was far too busy groping herself. A malicious smile flickered over his lips as he watched: she’s going to regret ignoring my orders.
Smoothing down his crisp, black shirt, oblivious to the fact it had been a sweaty old band tee a few moments before, Trent crept from the lounge taking care to ensure his glossy dress shoes did not give him away.
The woman’s moans followed him as he strode down the corridor. A lesser man would have buckled to them and hurried back to kiss her passionately, perhaps even surprise her by pulling aside her panties and sinking his tongue into her sex. Trent had more control than such men.
He had expected something like this might happen and he had come prepared. They hadn’t been intimate for long, but it wasn’t difficult to see she was a loose cannon. In their short time together she had gladly fucked him in the car, in a restaurant bathroom and even in a public park in broad daylight, the final of which she had suggested herself. His attempts at reigning her in had thus far proved fruitless, which is exactly why he had booked this week away for them – out here without any distractions he could finally teach her how to serve.
He had stashed the large chest in an alcove out of the way when they arrived. Carrying it back to the lounge he placed it quietly down, unclipped the latches and flipped it open. Inside was a treasure trove of sordid devices.
Taking out a tightly rolled red towel he spread it across the tiled floor. Atop this he laid a bundle of black bondage rope, a set of hogtie cuffs and a thick belt. All the while the woman continued to feel herself entirely ignorant of his presence. She was so lost in her own pleasure she gave a startled yelp when he spoke up.
‘Angela. I thought I told you to get dressed and wait for me to shower? I don’t recall permitting you to get started without me.’
Leaping up, Angela’s eyes were wild, darting from the towel to the chest to him. It was clear he had taken her by surprise. For a moment she stood bewildered, then her features twisted into a devious smirk.
‘I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself. I just get so hot thinking about fucking you. It makes me so wet and horny.’
‘Is that so?’
She nodded with a girlish moan. ‘Uh-huh. I get so needy for your cock. I just want to wrap my pussy around your fat dick and ride you until we can’t breathe.’ She squeezed her breasts together to deepen her already mesmerising cleavage.
Trent kept a straight face and ignored her attempts at seduction. ‘And do you think that gives you the right to disobey my orders?’
‘Aw, come on baby, I was just getting warmed up for you. I know you want me. I know you want these.’
Sinking back down, Angela tugged her huge tits from the captivity of her bra. A naughty glimmer in her eye, she leaned forwards and jiggled them, allowing Trent to savour how they wobbled as she moved.
Trent moved with the malevolent calm of an approaching storm. He could see in her eyes she was expecting him to grope her, to kiss her, to bend down and eat her out. Instead he crouched down and fixed her with a chilling stare.
‘What I want is a woman who does as she is told.’
Angela didn’t know what to say. Trent had just shunned one of her best moves like an annoying fly. She frowned as he pulled the towel and its contents closer.
‘When we first met, I told you I wasn’t in the market for a vanilla relationship. I told you I was a man of more dominant tastes and you said you wanted that too. You said you loved being dominated. You were lying. At least about the last part. You’ve never been dominated before, have you?’
Angela’s mouth hinged open and closed uselessly. Trent continued before she could find her words.
‘I thought so. You know how I know? If you had you’d know there are consequences to disobeying orders. You’d also know it’s a dangerous game attempting to seduce a dominant. You’re so used to fucking your way through life you don’t know any better. No, you’re doing this because you want to find out what happens when you push me too far. So I think it’s time I showed you what happens when you fail to do as you are told. Now hold out your hands.’
Nervously, she did so, trying to calm her drumming pulse as Trent took up the hogtie cuffs. After unclipping the wrist restraints from the main set he buckled them tight in place. She wasn’t sure what aroused her more – that he had read her so easily, that he had resisted her charms, or that he was about educate her in a kink she had longed to explore for years.
Indicating she kneel, he removed her bra before heading back to the chest. When he turned back her heart skipped a beat.
‘Is that a…?’
‘Sybian? Yes. Ever tried one before?’
Angela shook her head.
‘Ah, well then this should be very interesting. I hear it is an intense experience, but then most of the women who’ve used this lost the ability to form full sentences once I turned it on. Let’s see how you handle it shall we?’
With a chuckle he placed it down and allowed her to admire the device. The dildo crowning the well-worn saddle was thick and realistic down to the veins.
How many women has he used this on? The dildo looks so big – how did they take it?
A swarm of butterflies had taken flight in her stomach and she began to wonder if perhaps ignorance was bliss when it came to sexual fantasy. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for domination.
But Trent was already dragging her into position. With a firm grip on her cuffs he tugged her over the saddle, slapping her ass into position. When she was crouched just above the dildo he hooked his fingers in her underwear and ripped them off. ‘You won’t be needing those anymore,’ he sneered, tossing away the tattered remains.
Frantically trying to think of a way out, Angela blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. ‘What about lube?’
Trent scoffed. ‘I thought you said you were already wet for me? Let me check.’
Angela shuddered as Trent’s fingers burrowed deep into her slick cunt. When he pulled them free they glistened with her nectar. ‘Yes, I’d say you’re plenty wet enough. Let’s get to it then.’
The shock of the dildo plunging into her as Trent forced her down tore a howl from Angela’s lungs. It stretched her to her limits and it took her several minutes to calm her breathing enough to speak.
‘It’s… n-not so b-bad,’ she stammered.
Trent raised an eyebrow. ‘In that case perhaps we should skip the first few speeds. Let’s start at five.’
This time she screamed. Being subjected to the sybian was nothing short of a sensory attack, a duet of pain and pleasure that tore her mind to ribbons. The white-hot sensation burned through her eclipsing everything – thought, memory, movement. It was a struggle even to breathe. The intensity of it shut down her brain and forced her body into a trance-like state, reducing her to a convulsing, shivering mess.
Though the dildo itself was intense, it was the small patch of protruding nubs pressed against her clit that took her breath away. Vibrating at such a speed they were a blur they battered her swollen nub relentlessly, sending bolts of agonising ecstasy arcing through her crotch and up her spine.
Beside her, Trent admired her pleasure-wracked figure. Her heavy tits bounced almost with a mind of their own and already her juices were leaking across the saddle.
Despite the appeal of her body, however, he found himself staring at her face: the expressions of unbridled pleasure were simply too good to pass up. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing so pure in life than the expression of a woman who was certain she could endure no more pleasure yet would have done anything to ensure it continued.
At great length, Angela managed to compose herself. Trent was surprised to see her smirking.
‘Is… is that all you’ve got? Not really much of… of a p-punishment.’ The words were difficult, cut through by sharp groans, but there was a determination in her tone.
A wicked smile split Trent’s face: Finally.
He had spent much of his adult life dominating his sexual partners and had revelled in every moment of it. He loved having their bodies laid out in a carnal buffet. He loved being the man they chose to submit to in mind, body and soul. He even loved caring for them once their intimacy had run its course and all they wanted in the world was to be held.
In all that time, however, he had never truly faced a challenge. His lovers had all been naturally submissive and obeyed him without question. More to the point, none could match his rampant sexual appetite or drive to dominate. They had all left him wanting more.
Angela was the woman he had been waiting for. A rebellious soul not so easily tamed, as devoted to resisting him as he was to breaking her. This was going to be fun.
‘Actually, no. That’s just level five. There are thirteen in all. How about we take it up a notch?’ Turning the dial up to the next level he watched her crumple in on herself once more.
One by one they ascended through the sybian’s levels. Each time he would wait until Angela had almost gathered her senses, would wait until she opened her mouth to deliver some rebellious comment, then he would turn the dial and chuckle as the words died in her throat.
With each level Angela tumbled deeper into her own desire, channelling the immense pleasure into staying sane. Though it would have been so easy to give in and submit to Trent’s will it was worth the effort to resist and have him look at her like he wanted to fuck her, beat her and caress her all at the same time.
No woman Trent had dominated had ever surpassed level nine, but over the course of the next half an hour Angela made it all the way to level twelve. Just when he was about to take her to the final level, however, she let out a whimpering scream.
‘I can’t! I can’t take it! It’s too much! Oh my God it’s too much!’
Moving swiftly, Trent rose to his feet. He wasn’t about to let her off that easily. She had whet his appetite with the promise of a lover capable of exploring the very edges of desire and now he no longer wanted to break her – he wanted to perfect her.
‘Perhaps this will take your mind off it.’
Opening her eyes she found Trent’s cock bobbing before her. His head glistened with pre-cum and he was already solid.
Her response was automatic: like a vampire to an exposed neck she bowed her head and feasted. Even in the short time they had been intimate she had already decided Trent’s was the best cock she had ever come across, so she was never going to have passed up the chance to taste it, but it was more than that. Sucking cock was familiar to her – comfortingly so compared to the novelty of the sybian. As such she immediately poured all her efforts into the act.
To her delight it was just the outlet she needed. At last able to channel her erotic energy she found the sybian far more bearable, even going so far as to rock on the saddle, teasing him with her jiggling ass.
By the sounds he was making, Trent liked the way she was venting her energy too. Between the grunts he sneered down at her.
‘Aren’t you quite the whore? Riding my sybian – that’s a first. Well, if you want to act like a whore I’m happy to treat you as one.’ With that he notched the device up to level thirteen, discarded the remote and proceeded to fuck her face.
His fingers tangled in her hair he ravaged her throat with merciless force. The cabin echoed with sloppy choking noises as she coughed and spluttered around his meat, yet despite the violence she welcomed his thrusts. It felt so natural having his cock buried in her throat. At that moment all she wanted was to be a filthy cocksleeve and he was treating her as just that.
Trent didn’t bother to use her face for either of their pleasure. He slammed into her inner cheek and struck the back of her throat so hard his balls ached, but they both knew it wasn’t about the pleasure. His only intention was to degrade and abuse her, to reduce her to a set of holes he alone could use. He was teaching her where she belonged and the sybian was forging a connection between degradation and pleasure.
Angela, however, was not so easily subdued.
Without warning she batted Trent’s hands aside and took control for herself. Latching onto him she gorged herself with long, deep strokes, her tongue coiling serpentine about his shaft. As she worked she used one hand to clutch his thigh and pull herself in harder while the other massaged the base of his cock.
Angela maintained the violence with which Trent had used her, though she channelled it into a more sensual experience. With every blow of his head against her throat she made sure her lips caressed his shaft on the pullback; for every gag forcing her to come up for air she persisted in suckling on his head while she regained her breath.
All the while her eyes were fixed firmly on him.
He knew she was analysing him, probing for a weakness. She was hunting down his pleasure spots so she could use them to break him. It was an erotic battle of wits and he fucking loved it.
Though he tried to keep his composure Angela was a force of nature and he could not hold up against her entirely. Here and there he slipped up, letting through a grunt or a gasp or a roll of the eyes.
Each mistake he made encouraged her to redouble her efforts and push things a step further. Restrained though she was, she worked off his trousers with ease and managed to get a hold on his behind to pull him in even deeper.
Trent knew he had to stop her before he crumbled completely.
Without warning his hand was around her throat and he was pulling her to her feet. She came away from his cock with a sloppy pop, while the dildo fell free with a similar noise. His grip was so tight he could feel her pulse against his palm. Still, though she was flushed red as a poppy and struggling for breath she let out a strangled chuckle.
‘Too much for you, wasn’t it?’
Trent leaned in close wearing a wolfish grin. ‘Not at all. I just felt a pressing need to find out if your other holes can take the same abuse.’
Throwing her onto the sofa he snatched up the remainder of the cuff set and turned off the sybian. For a moment he considered going all the way and hogtieing her so she could not fight back, but he was enjoying their game too much for that. No partner had made him feel so alive before and trussing her up would remove the challenge.
Instead he lashed her wrists and ankles in front of her. Standing over her with his cock glistening, he sneered. ‘Well, do you think you’re ready for me?’
Angela spread her legs as far as she was able. ‘Why don’t you come and find out?’
Trent wasted no time in doing so. Dropping down beside her he grabbed the crossed leather straps connecting her cuffs, manhandled her into a usable position, spread her pussy lips wide and plunged inside.
Angela’s breath caught in her throat. Somehow she always forgot how big he was, even after a lengthy blowjob. Though he didn’t stretch her nearly as much as the sybian nothing could match the raw intensity of his scorching rod.
This time was different though. In their previous steamy nights and naughty quickies he had used her sensually, passionately, savouring her body as one might a fine wine.
Not now. Now he invaded her. Abandoning any attempt at foreplay he rammed inside so hard her ass ached and her clit throbbed. He used his hold on her restraints to tug her in hard, allowing him to drive himself deeper than she thought possible.
He’s in my stomach! He’s in my fucking stomach!
Angela had never been fucked so deep or rough but she quickly decided she loved it. His brutal use of her body made her feel subhuman, like a sex doll rather than a lover. It was painful and perfect all at once and with every merciless thrust she succumbed further to her new addiction: degradation.
As much as she loved it though, that wasn’t to say she could handle it; the brutality of Trent’s fucking drove her to the edge of her sanity. It was too hard, too intense, too deep. It felt like her hips were going to shatter or her insides rupture – it felt like she was going to split in half. Her tits bounced violently, tugging on her chest painfully as they moved, while her whole body ached in protest of the abuse.
Her chest was so tight it was a struggle to breathe, let alone moan. All she could do was lie there and let him use her.
She fixed him with an uncertain stare but he only laughed. ‘Maybe you’re not quite as ready as you thought. It looks like a good hard fuck was all you needed to put you in your place.’
This time she had no sassy retort. She just let out a strangled groan and flopped back onto the sofa as he continued to ruin her pussy.
Lost in a trance of physical ecstasy, Angela put up no resistance when Trent manhandled her into a new position. Heaving her onto his lap he laid her limp body against his shoulder, lifted one stockinged leg and immediately violated her from below.
Making use of her docile state, Trent took things to the next level. Lifting the bundle of rope deftly with his foot he undid the knot and lashed it about Angela’s torso. In the work of a moment he had tightly bound up her breasts and fashioned a basic harness looping around her neck and back he could tug on for even greater control.
What was more, he had already snatched up the belt without her noticing and now, unclipping her cuffs to free her limbs, he used it to strike stinging blows against her swollen clit.
The flares of pain it delivered roused Angela briefly from her mental torpor. Not enough to resist his advances, but enough to form strident shrieks as he planted each blow.
Beneath her breathless, pliant exterior, however, Angela’s soul was drowning in bliss. The combined sensations of pleasure and pain sang a symphony through her mind obscuring all else. She had never considered how they might complement one another, yet with every thrust she found it harder to separate them. Together they formed an orgasmic fog that permeated to the depths of her being.
Lost in the intensity of it, her rational mind shut down. Only her physical senses persisted. She did not notice Trent remove his shirt, only felt the movement of his body and the bloom of heat across her back as she lay over his bare chest; she did not register him laying the belt down in favour of a grip on her thigh, only sensed the sting of her clit mellow to a dull ache and the grating of his fingers on her flesh. And all she saw was his cock driving in and out in a hypnotic rhythm she could not tear her eyes from.
Outside of her trance her body still responded to him though. She did not feel her orgasm until it was tearing through her and she was squirting for the first time in her life. The fluid sprayed so far it missed the towel entirely to wet the tiles, twinkling like the fallen beads of a snapped pearl necklace.
The sudden eruption shattered her hypnotised state and she wailed with release. Wracked with pleasure she twitched and convulsed so powerfully Trent lost his grip on her legs and was forced to snatch the harness to keep her in place.
Expecting him to continue fucking her, she was surprised when he pulled out. As he set her down on her knees she spotted why – his dick was bucking wildly with an oncoming orgasm.
‘A filthy whore like you deserves to be degraded like the cumdump you are,’ he said. Then, as though the words had pushed him over the edge, he fired his load all across her tits.
Over the course of a minute he blasted her with shot after shot of thick, sticky cum. Since he was no longer fucking her the submissive fog had cleared and she moaned with a naughty smile, presenting her cleavage for him.
Cum trickling hot over her tits, she smiled once he had finished. ‘You know something, baby? I think I like being your cumdump. It’s invigorating.’ Clutching his cock she bowed to lick the string of cum dangling from the tip. ‘And tasty too.’
Trent chuckled and stroked her hair. ‘I thought you might. I’d say you were born for it. Though I fear I’ve sparked an addiction.’
Following his gaze, Angela realised she had unconsciously straddled the sybian once more. The dildo filled her insides perfectly and she automatically began to rock on it.
‘I think you might have,’ she giggled. ‘Maybe you should give me my next fix, sir.’
Trent shivered – Sir. He could get used to that.
For that alone he considered subjecting her to the toy once more, but he had other ideas he wanted to explore. He shook his head. ‘No. I’ve got something different in mind. Clean yourself up.’
Happy to oblige if it meant tasting his cum, Angela methodically scooped up each pearly dollop and sucked it from her fingers. As she did so, Trent busied himself at the chest.
‘So what are you going to do to your naughty bitch next?’ she asked once she had finished. ‘Whip me? Spank me? Go to town on my ass with a flogger?’
‘Not exactly,’ Trent replied. He had donned his shirt once more, though he remained naked from the waist down. ‘As it happens there’s something I’ve always wanted to experiment with but none of my previous lovers were up to trying. Something tells me you won’t be so shy.’
When he turned to face her he clutched a set of crimson candles and a matchbox.
Taking hold of her wrist cuffs he pulled her to her feet and fixed her with a piercing stare. A ghost of a smile played over his lips. ‘I think we should go to the dining table. That way I can spread you out and have a nice candlelit dinner of your pussy. What do you say?’
Grinning devilishly, Angela pressed herself close and rubbed her bare pussy along his jutting cock. ‘It’s a date,’ she said…
Meanwhile, in the Klein cabin…
Thanks for reading!
The model used in this piece is the inimitable Angela White, who I’m no doubt many of you know already. For the uninitiated though, you can find her PornHub profile here: https://www.pornhub.com/pornstar/angela-white.
When it comes to my favourite models, White has been somewhat of a dark horse over the years. When I first came across her work I was more into plastic bimbo figures and though I enjoyed her scenes they didn’t do all that much for me. Day by day, week by week and month by month, however, White has slowly made her way up my favourites list to the point now that I love her work more every day. Just when I think I can’t admire her any more than I already do I will come across a new scene or Twitter post and she manages to shatter my glass ceiling of adoration all over again. I can’t quite say what it is about her, but I find her truly mesmerising and I consider it my pleasure to be able to showcase her work through my own. If you check out any model because of Lake Fantasy, White would probably be my top recommendation.
Due to the layout of this story I didn’t think a full four-image collage would work, but given the intensity of the story I also wanted to convey a little bit extra through the images, resulting in the overlapping image pairs. As with some other chapters, I have tried to mix up how I used the images, and it’s definitely something I’ve enjoyed doing, so you can expect image pairs and collages in future stories when I get the chance to include them.
Don’t forget to come back on Friday for the final chapter when Jessica and Richard unearth the secrets of the lake!
I would love to hear your thoughts on my work, so please leave me a comment!
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