James
You… at my feet, weeping and begging forgiveness for not trusting me.…
.... Michael was right, it's me, not you.
Charlotte flinches, but holds her position.
Her slit is pink and displayed; open to me. Normally she would be glistening and scented of her arousal, but not now. She's dry.
Fuck her dry?
I'm not interested. I don't want to f**k her.
I want to make her hurt....
… Make you scream....
Make you pay....
Watch you limp for days....
I stand over her, looking down. “You're trembling."
“Sorry, Master."
“You're afraid?"
“A little, yes, Master."
“Of me? Of what I'm going to do?"
“Yes."
“You still want to do this?"
“If it makes it right between us, yes, I want to do this."
We'll see....
Casting around, looking for something suitable, I spot my tie. Doubling it over
