It had been two weeks. Two weeks of bliss and happiness and then last night, it had gone to hell in a handbasket.
They’d had their first argument the night before when Mistress Kala had called her and asked her to take a shift. She had declined because she was simply too tired. Kostas had asked why she hadn’t simply resigned her position. She had sneered at him and asked why he would suggest she quit her job.
She had reminded him he had himself told her he had no problem with her working there so long as she didn’t put her lips or v****a on a man, but he’d questioned why she would even want to enter the parlor. If Miklos could let her swing a whip and Kostas could let her work out all her s****l frustrations, why did she need to act as a dominatrix to faceless strangers? She had argued i
