Wednesday, 4 April 2012


It's Monday morning and after the tedious ritual of 'How was your weekend. Good. How was yours? Good' exchanges I finally sit down. And then jump up as my workmate exclaims:

'Bloody hell, what happened to your neck?!' 

Quite frankly, I have no idea at first.

But then, the flashback comes of him holding my neck down repeatedly, as he wrestled me into submission.  It all makes sense now.

'Oh, I had my hair done over weekend. Must be the reaction to the dye'

It flies. For now.

I promptly trot off to the ladies' and peruse the damage with the help of my compact powder mirror.

A distinct finger-shaped bruise makes my mind wander back to that moment when he had to restrain me quite harshly this morning and then slapped me. I was whingey, ungrateful and what's worse, slapped him back. In the end, I was pressed against a wall, my whole body melting into the hard cold surface, as his cock, penetrating me, relentlessly delivered the discipline I needed. And probably the several fucks that proceeded this one did not help my neck either. Like the one just before we had to leave for a Sunday lunch with friends and I sat on his lap roly-pollying, pawing and asking for attention like a cat you left outside for too long. 

'Don't tempt me'

Red rag for a bull, that one. I get even more kittenish and naughty at the mere sound of 'Don't'. A quickie over the kitchen counter followed, where my neck was once again subject to restraining, and I was subject to an unceremonious fucking.

He had no choice to be fair. I was pretty badly behaved on both occasions.

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