She squeezed, and I felt a moment of vertigo as pleasure and guilt fought within me.“God, you’re big,” she said, stroking my shaft as she pulled...me toward her opening.I tried to pull away, but she held me. “Wren,” I said at last, “I’m sorry.”Her expression changed.“I ... I can’t.”“What? Are you worried about condoms?”“It ... it’s not that.”“I have some in my purse, but you don’t need them. It’s not that time of the month.” She didn’t understand—wouldn’t understand.“Wren ... I ... I can’t.” I. You are MYlove, my creation and my will. You are love love love...lovelove...LOVE!!Every time you strain your neck to lift your soft pretty face and dab itwith globs of foundation think of me.Think of me, as you smack your round cheeks and forehead firmly andrepeatedly with your pretty light powder pad, desperately hoping thatit'll be enough to make you pretty enough for me. Think of your stronghandsome master as you brush your cheeks with peach, pink, purple, rustand red powders.Think of. More

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