I dig claw like fingers into the blanket beneath me, my hips grinding in a circle, just enough to keep myself aroused, rolling my shoulders, stretchin... my limbs as much as I can. He tied me loosely, making sure that I was comfortable, and yet, unable to escape. I feel so dirty. A bound slut, a pleasure slave. I don’t even know his name. He doesn’t know mine, either. He calls me his whore. After all, that’s what I am. The first time, there were no words, no gentleness. He simply grabbed my hips. Now lay down in the middle of the bed.’ I gazed at him while I walked around the edge of the mattress to the foot of bed. The soles of his feet, ghostlike relative to his dark chocolate skin, rested two feet apart. This allowed a clear view of his testicles. They amaze me – he’s big and yet they always seem disproportionately large. The bed creaks just a little as I climb up on the foot of it. And he sighs as he feels my stockings along the outside of his shins. He gives in to my subtle. More

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