If a man wanted her he worked for what he got, and what he got was straight sex, only missionary, if that. She was confident in her ability to control...her surroundings. Well, maybe not right now, what with the gag and the cuffs. What was she thinking? This was certainly no time for casual reflection. She was in trouble. She stopped crying. She wanted to keep on crying, but realized it wasn’t doing any good. She didn’t know where she was, and she had to find a way, some way, to get loose, get. Calling me his whore and his slut and his cocksucking little sissy. Telling me that I was his as he fucked me and fucked me. Telling me that this was only the first time and that there would be other times……and then, saying that there would be other times with ‘friends of his’ which not knowing what he meant but being left to my imagination, thrilled and excited me. Other people? Friends of his? I could hardly breathe at the excitement of the thought. He fucked me and again. I could feel his. More

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