Friday, 25 May 2012


I stand proud and tall in his bedroom. He's behind me not touching me.

I feel his breath on neck.

"Any zips?", he asks in a curt, strictly fact-finding way.


He takes my dress slowly off me like it never belonged to me in the first place. He never rushes, you see, always taking his time.

I am waiting patiently for once.

I catch my reflection in the full length wardrobe mirror. So does he. My nipples pierce the lace bra I am wearing. You can see the goosebumps on me.

He runs his fingers along my stockinged thighs. Then he takes in the curve of my bottom. He stops in the small of my back.

He strokes my back with a single finger, from the small of my back   right up to my neck. I gasp helplessly and shiver.

"Turn around"

"No", I say, disliking the effect he has on me. My legs tremble.

The finger in the small of my back turns into a hand which unceremoniously pushes me down, face down on the bed as his hand delves between my legs, his fingers wet within seconds of opening me up.

"Legs apart"

"No", I say again, knowing full well the refusal will come with consequences.

I get severely punished for my insolence as his large hands leave angry imprints on my bottom with every stroke.

The pain is exquisite and very well deserved. As is his hard cock in my mouth, his hand grabbing my hair, long strokes deep into my throat, choking me into a tearful snotty mess, to ensure that I got the message.

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