He could almost see the redness himself. The spare bedroom.The secure room. His satin room. The walk-in closet full of satin clothes and lingerie. The...round bed inthe middle of the room, d****d in satin sheets. The mirrored walls and ceiling.His mouth felt like it should say something, but his brain had nothing on offer to send. The chokngsilence was broken by his mother."Dave, I know what a satin fetish is. Your father and I shared one. It's not very common in women, butwe do exist. I suppose. In fact, in general the rest of her group weren't frankly evil, though no one stepped in when she was delighting in torturing the staff, either. Her parents had obviously spoiled the little bitch rotten, & those around her-- including her husband-- knew better then to rock the boat, so to speak.Seeing the cruiser she'd offended while boarding the boat staring at the scene she'd just made, Lynnette sniffed & turned, pointedly ignoring the man's condescending frown as she followed the hapless. We awoke simultaneously, and I finally was able to think straight. As we lay on the ground together, I asked him “What... what exactly did you do?” He answered with no attempt to hide anything. “Mistress, I gave you power over all life on Earth. My cum in your bowels” – As he said “bowels”, my organs felt a pulse of heat – “allows you power over the body. Your body and that of other people. My cum in your throat” – again, a pulse of heat – “allows you power over the mind, power to control what. But he fooled me, He fucked her in this position for what seemed like thirty minutes at the same pace as when he first started, there was little doubt that my wife was cumming like crazy. She could barely catch her breath from the fury of his fucking.When she came again, Bobby's aggression became more apparent, he started calling her a bitch and a whore. I was about to say something then my bride shocked me by saying "I am your whore, I am a slut, fuck me harder, fuck me harder."I couldn't.
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Once again, my fingers are wrinkled from the wetness as my body responds to thoughts of him using me. Life isn’t supposed to be this way. Or is it?
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