I whispered, “I want you to be a good girl.”She nodded eagerly in response.I whispered again, “I want you to be my good girl.”I felt the shive... that ran through her as she turned her head to me, looking, pleading to be kissed again. How could I refuse? As she submitted to me, I knew I was actually her slave.Sliding my hands up, I cupped her boobs before letting them slip through my hands and feeling her nipples under my fingers. She leant her head back onto my shoulder and we turned and kissed. I feel like a burn victim. I used to love wearing my hair into a ponytail or a bun but now I have to try everything I can to hide my forehead.My RomanceI met my husband when I was working in a Chinese restaurant in midtown Manhattan. At the time I am also studying at NYU. My parents had always had very high hopes for me because I am the smartest, prettiest and most diligent among my four siblings. I studied very hard to get into NYU and they wished that I marry a wealthy white American man so. More

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