Only my sister slaves make me feel better when they comfort me and salve my bruises and the places I have been abused. But I want to be loved. I think...I need to be loved. Please love me."Leaning forward from his cross-legged sitting, his lips touch hers carefully. The kiss slowly builds in passion. She takes his hand and places it on her head where he combs through her thick, dark hair. Her brief tension soon vanishes under his tender strokes against her scalp. She treats his scalp similarly.. Some fucker she's trusted, once. That's painful. The cacophony of emotions begins to make a little more sense to me. There's that quivering strand of confusion running through it all - betrayal. The absolute, fundamental, world-inverting betrayal you only get when you are deceived by that which you relied upon most. Its a gut-wrenching, sickening feeling that makes me nauseous. Not nauseous enough to counteract my own sick feeling of arousal though, dammit. Shit, I can feel bile in the back of. More

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