When our man's eyes focused upon Miss Devonshire's smooth, pale, bouncing bare butt cheeks, they positively glistened like those of a half-starved wolf. The malevolent growl which accompanied his initial, and almost gentle, caress of the wicked siren's hindquarters was indeed chilling. Happily, the wench was by now locked in a vise like grip and totally at the man's mercy. The mercy of a hungry wolf.
