His come rains down hard onto the smooth fullness of her well-fucked cunt, jet after jet of searing cream drenching her glistening lips, sizzling drops and drips etching her brightness with his name, marking her skin with his possession. As he straddles her supine form, muscular chest heaving, satisfied body recovering, she directs his heavy gaze to the delicate fingers gliding through his slippery essence, painting the swell of her breasts, the peaks of her nipples, tracing the folds of her flower, teasing the plump, greedy clitoris crying out for more.

But it is only once his fingers meet hers, sensually circling and fondling the pure pink pleasure; it is only once his gluttonous digits scoop up his thick seed, feeding it into the depths of her tight velvet heat; it is only once his spent cock finds new life again, driving into her with an urgent fury, merging the juices of their lust; it is only once the deluge saturates her sweet little cunt that her body opens to receive its right and its privilege, that her full mouth parts in ecstasy breathtaking, absolute and sublime.

There’s no denying his aroused flesh.

There’s no denying the shaft, thick and hard and leaking, straining against the pinstripe suiting, the strong fist taking hold, stroking the pulsing meat, the nose flooded with the scent of sex and desire as it rises up through the layers, as it drifts up from between her splayed and lean legs, from the full lips spread wantonly wide open, from the pungent, flowing glisten painting the cunt fair and smooth and eager.

There’s no denying his possession, his domination, the commands rumbled into her ear, his longing to feel and trace her burning need, to delicately touch the tip of his tongue to her clitoris, licking with a maddening slowness and softness, demanding of her body the release of more of its liquid lust, lapping and drinking at her font of pure pleasure, his fingers tracing distracted circles on her creamy thighs, his mouth taking her closer, closer, ever closer, to the edge, to the brink before cruelly pulling back.

There’s no denying his loss of control, the moment he becomes her own toy for the taking, his cock throbbing and lurching, threatening to spill prematurely, his large frame suddenly upon her, his glans sliding and gliding, poised at her portal with the low, sultry confession, the unblinking yet whispered admission, it is this very scene she has played in her mind for as long as she can remember, masturbating to the thought since she was a nothing but a girl, her inflamed sex finding regular release through fingers and mouths and cocks, through men strange and familiar, through the sunlit morning and the dark, starry night.

There’s no denying the groans and the moans as he plunges in completely, her velvet heat stretching, filling, clinging to dear thudding life, the bodies grinding, writhing, the lips begging and pleading, the screams of base, carnal abandon, the slap of his hips, the sound of his slick glans slamming, pounding, fucking her back into the sweetest dripping submission.

No, no. There’s no denying. There’s no denying his aroused flesh.

I found myself back there again.

I found myself taking in the image I long for you to see once more, taking in the detail of the white shirt chaotically tugged open, the lace of my demi cups darkened by the peaks scarcely hidden beneath, the black pencil skirt bunched around my waist, the pull of my suspender belt gently marking my yielding flesh, the midnight nylon sheen kissing the legs raised up stiletto high.

I found myself back there again, perched on the edge of the white expanse, spreading myself shamelessly in front of the glass, easing the damp, ebony silk away from my sex, teasing the softening folds, my nipples, my breasts, caressing the bright, plump lips, the abdomen lean and fair, cupping the mons so eager, my hips sensually grinding against the hand, my body, my cunt, silently demanding their much needed release.

And as I found myself there again, as I slid in two digits and crooked to find that sweet, little spot, as I fingered and fucked, as I circled and strummed the blushing nub, as I tightened and clamped and released my glistening lust, as I relished the wanton reflection of the woman pleasuring herself, moaning so loud the neighbours would most certainly hear, I wondered just how long you’d be able to resist me if you found me just this way.

Would you resist me? Would you resist?

Would you stand in the doorway relishing the sight, unbuttoning your shirt collar, discarding your tie, grabbing then rubbing your aroused flesh through the fabric, your raspy breath the only indicator of your voyeuristic presence?

Would you move over to me, stand before me, so close your scent overwhelms my senses, so close I can feel the heat blistering off your muscular body, so close my watering mouth can almost taste you, so close I can see the first perfect drop of precum nestling in your cockhead?

Would you extend your teasing torture, liberating your throbbing shaft, your fingers delicately drawing back the foreskin, your fist sliding back and forth, back and forth, your hips gliding along with it, back and forth, back and forth, positioning your body between my open thighs, back and forth, back and forth, your glans now intermittently brushing the tender skin of breasts, back and forth, back and forth, your thumb smearing your shine along the curve of my neck replacing the fragrance of my favourite perfume?

Would you step closer still, winding your fingers through these tousled curls, your dark gaze locking on the deep blue of my eyes as you feed your thickness into my mouth, as your fingers join mine down below, as your digits transition from lace to nylon to skin hot and moist, as my tongue licks and laps, as my lips voraciously engulf, as I suck you like a woman starved and denied, as my mouth fucks your cock and your fingers fuck my cunt, our orgasms rushing headlong to meet us?

Would you torment me cruelly, deliciously with the meat most desired, running yourself along my cleft, coating your hardness in my flowing juices, circling my clitoris with your glans, your kiss finally finding mine, our lips sensually devouring through my whimpering pleas for your cock, through the ragged cries to “Fill me, fill my cunt, fill me, oh God, please, fill me, fill me, fuck me, fuck me”?

Or would you simply take what you want, what is rightfully yours, just as you did that night, wrenching open your zip, pushing me back on the bed, your suit jacket thrown off and onto the floor, my legs instinctively splaying themselves wide, your hand releasing the glans hard and eager, guiding then nudging momentarily at my need, before plunging, sinking into the depths of my velvet heat, your mouth, your kiss swallowing my mewl, your hands a vice on my hips, mine grasping for your shoulders, your back, your arse, the sound and smell of our lust overpowering the room as you fuck me with passionate abandon, as you relinquish that control, as you leave the imprint of your shaft on my most intimate flesh, as we come loud and hard, our urgent desire screaming over this skin, melting these bodies together, as I come loud and hard, my cunt milking you from within, as you come loud and hard, splashing your seed deep, deep inside me, as we come loud and hard with the reflection of our merged bodies beamed back at us in the low afternoon light?

I wondered. I wonder. Would you resist me as I sit at the mirror?

… My sex is so soft, so plump, so intensely slick my panties are fused to my bright flesh. This is the result of thinking about you, thinking about your face, your body, imagining our mouths locked in the perfect kiss, slow and sensual, then urgent and bruising, our mingled breath already hot and ragged and shallow. Breaking away, my lips and tongue give and take and explore, brushing, dipping, licking the sweet, clean skin of your neck, travelling along its curve, moving down, down, down to your chest, to your hips, branding you as mine in their wake, my tousled curls leaving a teasing trail as I savour and consume you, my long, delicate fingers finding your throbbing hardness, grazing, tracing every ridge of your thick shaft before finally entwining the meat most desired, stroking you slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, my gaze now fixed to your desiring eyes, my thumb circling your burnished head, smearing you with the glisten I long to taste.

… My tight red knickers are deliciously constricting, hugging my hips and bottom and mound. As I sit here in the close, spring heat, I’m teasing myself over the thin cotton fabric, mapping the damp spot growing ever larger, prolonging the moment my fingers find my need as I hunger for your nakedness here in my bed, as I hunger to know every last inch of you, as I hunger for you to drink from my cup, as I hunger for your glans between these pink, sticky lips, as I hunger for you to bury yourself deep, deep inside me, my hips rocking, my pelvis grinding, our flesh melting, merging in the bliss, swallowing your groans and words of desire, our climax breaking the still of the night, your hot seed coating the walls of my velvet, my fair, lissom form your canvas to paint and create.

… My entire body burns with its fevered ache; my entire being calls out for you and you alone, its need to have you near me, next to me, inside me too great. In a very short while, I’ll move off into the bedroom, shedding the fabric along the way, fashioning a path for you to blindly follow. When I reach the white covered expanse facing the large mirror, I’ll perch myself on its very edge, spreading my creamy thighs wide, wide, wider until I see the gloss shining in the low light, until I feel my crazed passion rising up and breaking free. Then, and only then, will I fuck myself with my silicone proxy, slipping and sliding the thick shaft along my portal, circling and teasing my clitoris, before nudging it into my cunt inch by glorious inch, watching my petite form surrender to a pleasure at once too much and not enough. And as I fuck myself for you, for me, as I thrust the cock in and out, in and out of me, as I watch my body arch and buck and writhe, as I watch the lust lining my face, as I allow my mind to sink into you, as I allow my body to drown in you, as I allow you to take me over even at so far a remove, as I moan and scream and cry out my orgasm, it will be your name on these lips, it will be the name of the man I want with a softness and a violence that surprises even me.

Her eyes, heavy and desiring, chart the path of his hovering form, taking in the detail of his chocolate gaze, the mouth bruised by her kiss, the muscular torso shadowed by the dark matt of wiry curls, eventually locking on the mesmerising grind of his hips and the hardening flesh sliding between the soft, swollen lips of her dripping sex.

Closing in on her, his chest teasingly grazing rosy nipples, hands and fingers gliding over the mounds of her breasts, tracing the line of her taut stomach, possessing her creamy thighs, his heated whispers find her ear as she begins to beg and plead, her sultry whimpering ringing out in the otherwise quiet room.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he gives in to her and to himself, one strong hand reaching down to stroke the uncut meat glossed with her arousal, the other feeding its thumb into her eager mouth, his eyes now drinking in the sight of her legs widening in readiness, the rising blush on her fair skin, the delicate fingers caressing, snaking, digging into his hips.

Parting her bright folds, his burnished head nudges momentarily at the portal before he sinks headlong, filling her with a deliberate slowness, inch by inch, spreading, stretching, satisfying the plump velvet, inch by inch, his slick cock throbbing, enveloped by her tightness, inch by inch, his thick shaft pulsing as it kisses her needy and intimate depths, inch by inch, her legs winding around the base of his back, inch by inch, her own arching off the bed, inch by inch, their hands a roaming mangle, inch by inch, inch by inch, his ragged breath now joining hers, inch by inch, inch by inch, inch by inch, until he is there, until his glans is pressed against her womb, until their bodies and skin and juices merge, until they are captive, until they are rapt, until they are one in the sweetest violation.

You will do as I say. You will do as I want. You have no other choice. And you know it.

I do know it. I know I have no other choice than to obey you. You, your voice, your body, your face, your ability to see me, see right through me, impels my body and mind to follow without question or reason. It leads me instinctively to you. It breaks me open, it strips me bare, destroys every vestige of my shame and inhibition.

I know.

I don’t know how this has happened so quickly. I don’t know how you can know me in this way. How do you do that? How can you know these things about me? How? How? How can you see and feel and know the very things I can scarcely admit to myself?

I already hate you a little for that.

I know you do. I know. I like that you hate me. I love that I do that to you, see right into you, see and recognise the depraved things you want for yourself, from yourself, from me, from others.

You see me, see into me, in the same way. As I see myself in you, you see yourself in me. I see the things you’ve never allowed any of the others to see.

Please, stop.

You know I can’t do that. It’s too late to go back. There’s no way back, not now. This you know.

Yes. I do.

Besides, you don’t want that. You like being my slut, don’t you?

Yes.

You love being my slut, don’t you?

Yes.

I can’t hear you, slut.

Yes. Yes. Yes. I love being your slut.

Tell me then, my sweet little slut, tell me what you imagine when you’re ravenous and desperate, when the ache crawls under your skin, when your cunt drips from its starvation.

I think about you. I think about excess. In those moments, I crave excess.

Of what variety?

Men. Many men. A roomful of men. Just for me. All for me. All there for my pleasure alone. Giving, taking, feasting, gorging.

I love how insatiable you really are under the nice girl façade.

I figured as much. I somehow knew you’d like that contradiction.

So, where am I?

You’re sitting in the corner of the room, my beautiful voyeur lurking in the shadows, as I am pleasured by a roomful of men.

That’s exactly where I want to be.

I imagine you stroking your hard, thick slippery cock as you watch these men taking me, fucking me, plundering me, giving me more pleasure than I can stand.

I think about my legs being parted by large, strong hands, a foreign mouth kissing my plump, glistening folds, licking and slurping and drinking my juices, his lips and tongue on my needy clit, my hips bucking, my body writhing. As I’m coming, loudly moaning and whimpering, another approaches and takes hold of my face opening my mouth, my lips and tongue skidding across his swollen head, licking greedily at the sheen before he slides his erection into my hot little mouth, fucking me slowly, steadily, then a little roughly, just as you like it.

Fuck.

Would you like that? Would you like that, baby? Would you like to see your slut being eaten by a big, strong man while another fucks her pretty little mouth?

Yes, I would. You know I would. You know I would relish watching your pleasure even in the face of my own jealousy, don’t you?

I do, baby. I do.

I also know when I come, you would like me to look you squarely in the eye, seeing the way that jealousy makes your uncut meat diamond-hard and slippery wet, your pleasure meeting your pain. Your handsome face would register another man’s invasion, my sodden cunt impaling itself on him to the hilt, filling me to the brim, my hips grinding and swivelling, small circles at first, then larger thrashing loops, our pelvic bones crashing, my fingers digging into his hairy chest, his force blushing the fair skin of my body.

Yes. Yes.

Rising from your chair, you walk over to me as yet another moves up behind me, nibbling from the base of my spine to my neck, languidly tasting, our lips and tongues at last consuming, his hands moving around to tease my small, pert breasts, hard and rosy nipples, his angry purple glans nudging my tight hole, hands moving down to part my cheeks wide as he takes the part of me that has only ever been owned by you.

Oh, fuck. No. Yes.

I think about you standing over me, joined by others, watching and stroking their cocks, using my mouth and my hands to jerk their hard-ons, using my body as a canvas for their newly spent hot seed. Hands rubbing and massaging the rivers of spunk, cream on cream, coating my slight body with the essence of these men, the essence of man.

This is just as I’ve pictured you, wantonly laid out for ready consumption and debasement. At my hand, at the hands of others.

You’re such a filthy little slut.

Yes, I am.

What happens when they’re done, when they’ve used you up?

You know what happens.

Tell me. Say it. I want to hear it. I need to hear it. Tell me what happens when your pleasure has been satisfied.

My pleasure is never truly satisfied. Until I have you.

Until I am reclaimed by you.

Until you take me back as your own.

Until you possess me as these men bear witness.

Until your naked body is intertwined with mine.

Until your jealous passion is released onto me, into me, into my mouth, into my cunt.

Until you fuck their seed out of me, until you lick away all trace, until you bathe me in your scent and sweat and saliva and come, until you immerse yourself in mine.

Until we ride the waves of pleasure together, until the marks on my skin are yours and yours alone.

Until we spend each other dry, use each other up, until nothing remains for another.

My slut. My beautiful little slut.

Always.

Legs hooked over the sides unashamedly spreading and displaying her in full, pert breasts rising and falling with each sharp, excited breath, she counts down the seconds to the moment of his invasion.

With the sound of his feet making their way across the hard-wood floor, her cunt thumps its raging pulse through the fine pink mesh, releasing pool after pool of her sweet nectar into the fabric and down her thighs.

Before her at last, he wastes little time, sliding down his zip to free the angry purple cock in need of this merging. Pushing the g-string to one side, he nudges his glistening head into her plump lips, hands possessing, hips driving, hard shaft plunging deep, deep, deeper into the searing velvety wetness as her back involuntarily arches and their low guttural moan reverberates around the cavernous room.

His mouth. His mouth. How it makes me pulse and ache. For him. For more. I pulse and ache and thump, thump, thump while he takes charge and flips me over onto my back and spreads my legs across the white expanse on which we play.

Kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, his hands stroke my almost naked body, beginning at my neck, tracing my collarbone, taking in the swell of my breasts, fondling my hard rosy nipples, possessing my waist, moving across my tummy and hips and thighs and calves, ending with a gentle foot caress. At long last his mouth joins in, kissing, licking, sucking, roaming hungry gestures marking me with his seemingly insatiable lust as my body quakes and shivers in response.

Impatience now rules his moves as he finally slips the cream and black satin g-string from me, my hips and bottom rising up, meeting his smiling face as the silky fabric and his fingertips brush my fair skin. Once past my feet he holds them to his face, inhaling deeply, absorbing my scent at a remove, extending the moment we have both yearned for over many a night and day.

Head sinking down, he takes his time to look at me, to memorize, to truly see the curve of my mound, the neat strip of fuzz, each pink plump fold, my flowing slit now glistening in the low light. And after what seems like an age his lips meet mine, kissing my cunt as if it were my mouth, lips possessing and consuming, his tongue slowly slithering out, moving across the hood of my clit oh so deliberately, making tiny circles around and around and around, my juices now pouring out of me, his tongue now darting and flicking as he pushes his big thick thumb into my pussy, twirling and fingering, replaced urgently by two others crooked towards him, sliding, probing, in and out, in and out, in and out, my pussy splashing and squelching, his moans and groans as he sates his own hunger withdrawing his fingers and drinking me in, his other hand stretching out to find my right breast, my one hand on the very same hand, the other stroking his head and pushing him in further, deeper as my legs open wide, wider, wider still threatening to tear me apart, whimpers and moans and animal groans, my begging and pleading for more, for more, right there, yes, there, oh baby don’t stop, don’t stop, my body unconsciously convulsing, my back arching with each new flick and lick of his tongue, with each kiss and suck of his mouth, with each wave of pleasure that courses through my slight body and releases the warm creamy flood.

The months characterised by my submission and acquiesce flew out the window once he was there before me. This flesh and blood man, skin soft, body hard, whose clean, sweet yet masculine scent left me swooning, would be mine for the taking. My own personal plaything, my fucktoy, my lover. Mine, all mine. For one day at least.

Having shed his coat in a heap on the floor, he stood in the entrance, watching and waiting silently, the short sharp breaths and straining bulge in his trousers betraying his arousal. I stepped forward, a little coyly, teasingly, pushing him firmly into the wall, pressing my hips into his erection, his hands supporting the small of my back as I leaned back, my hands caressing strong forearms, hips grinding ever so lightly, relishing the sight, delighting in the moment.

The tease didn’t last long, my impatience finally crashing over me in a wave as my mouth found his. Much like our very public encounter the previous day, we became fevered and hungry and insatiable in a matter of minutes, lips and tongues lashing, devouring, tasting, kissing, kissing, kissing, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, his hands travelling from my back to my arse and back up to my breasts, my own making their way from his neck, along his shoulders to his chest.

Breathlessly I broke away, one hand on his chest as if keeping him at bay, my eyes locked securely on his. I moved in again for a more sensual kiss before I began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it oh so slowly and deliberately from his trousers, fingers trailing through the gorgeously thick hair on his chest, my lips on that very silky spot on his neck, covering the long, lean line in deep tongue kisses that allowed me to absorb his very essence as I moved down, down, down his torso stopping once I was on my knees in front of him.

It was just as I had imagined, just as I had fantasized all those long nights alone in my own bed far, far away, touching and fingering myself at the thought of his rock-hard ready cock. My hand, still a little cold, reached out to him, rubbing and stroking him through the wool fabric of his pin-striped trousers just as it had done the day before. I leaned in, pressing my cheek to his now throbbing erection, running my face along the ridge, kissing him deeply, my hand cupping his balls, feeling him quiver at my touch as my other hand snaked around his arse and his wound through my curls.

I kept teasing, teasing, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, my hands trailing along his thighs and calves and back up to his raging hardness, rubbing, rubbing, kissing, kissing, kissing, until it was too much for either of us to bear. As I looked up at him and began to slowly unbuckle his belt, sliding it through each of the loops, his smiling eyes had transformed into a disbelieving yet hungry gaze. Flicking the buttons open and easing down the zip, my hand a thin layer away from his achingly hot flesh, I leaned in again to take in his scent as I eased him out of the boxers.

I was mesmerised, in fact I always am, at the sight of a hard throbbing cock. The sheer deliciousness of his thick shaft, angry purple head, shiny with precum, bobbing in front of me, is difficult to explain. Words often do it no justice at all. Licking my lipstick smudged lips, I kissed his tip, lightly licking at the sheen before opening my eager mouth wide to accept his big hard gift.

And what a gift it was. My mouth, my lips, my tongue, couldn’t get enough, as I licked and flicked at his head, my hand joining in and stroking his length, his cock moving in and out, in and out, my mouth fucking his cock, his cock fucking my mouth, my unconscious moans, his rapid, excited breaths, my hands forcing in more, more, more fiery flesh as I gripped his behind, stroking, stroking his thick shaft as I moved down to take his balls in my mouth, gently licking, squeezing and massaging them with my lips, my mouth back on his cock, tasting his juices, oh baby you taste so good, stroking, stroking, stroking with my delicate fingers as our eyes momentarily met, my lips once again wrapped around him, you are so fucking beautiful, look at you, look at you, licking, flicking, swirling my tongue on his head and then down his thumping shaft, his knees beginning to buckle, the familiar twitch forming in his stomach as I threw off my top and leaned back to feel the first jets of searing hot creamy come splash onto my breasts, stream after stream after stream, my hands massaging in his newly expressed passion, his hands joining mine, my mouth back on his cock to lick him clean.

His sticky hands held out to me, he lifted me to my feet and kissed me deeply, tasting himself on my lips, tasting the sweet release of his desire just as we had talked about in our many exchanges. Breaking away I walked into the bathroom, stripped off my skirt and stood in front of the mirror in the lace topped stockings and satin g-string of his choosing. Soaping myself up at the sink, my rosy nipples hard and erect from the shock of the warm water and the events of moments before, he came up behind me, his large strong hands taking over, make circles on my chest, fingers tracing my breasts, pinching my nipples, hands rinsing me clean then patting me dry with the fluffy white towel. Still standing by the sink, our reflection beamed back at us while I reached back, hooking my arm over his neck and accepting the long, deep sensual kiss he offered up once again as his hands moved along the soft fabric of my knickers to cup my eager and very wet cunt.

And as I took his hand and led him to the bed, I knew from the impatient and hungry look on his face our afternoon of pleasure was only just getting started.

He is upon me in moments. The wiry curls and muscular chest framed by the unbuttoned white shirt, the growing swell tightening his black trousers.

Body hovering over me, his intoxicating scent floods my senses and sets the butterflies in my stomach free. I am his. Instantly, instinctively. This he knows.

It begins with his hands, with his touch. He holds me in his grip, a velvet vice of hunger and desire. Wound tight, his arms seize me, control me, a prison of pure intent and wandering lust.

Pinned to the bed by the glorious weight of his frame, I am a willing captive. He winds one arm around my shoulder, the other beginning its journey along the curves of my slight body. He sweeps in long lingering strokes, taking in every crevice, every turn, every freckle, stopping now and then to devour my eager lips and tongue with his own.

Strong hands and fingers map the line of my neck, the dimple of my collarbone, the soft mounds of my creamy breasts and their hard aching peaks. Down, down, down they move and glide, rising and falling over my taut abdomen, hips and thighs. As they continue their descent down my legs, their possession is unrelenting. They begin to paw and maul and knead and take. They spread me open, they lay me bare, tracing tormenting circles that make me arch and buck, that force my hips to rise up to his touch, that make me pulse and long and throb, that fire up every cell until I whimper, moan and plead.

He shows no mercy in response, heavy desiring eyes my only reply. He continues the pleasurable offensive, stroking me harder, deeper, faster, lips and tongue now following suit. Sliding down my body, his lightly stubbled face scratching, teasing, his mouth kissing and nibbling, every inch of skin and flesh, each soft pink petal of my wet little flower, plump, open and ready for his first taste. He spreads open the bloom, sliding effortlessly into the dripping dew one finger then two then more, tongue flicking, licking, making tiny travels around and on my clit, his fingers slipping, probing, deeper and deeper, crooked to bring me closer and closer, to him, to the brink, to the crest, to the wave of pure pleasure.

And when he can take it no longer, when his desire aroused and unsated can be endured no more, when the rock-hard throb in his groin demands its own release, he sets it free. Dragging me down to the foot of the bed, his hands again begin their offensive, stroking and stroking up my arching hungry body, stroking and stroking the thick tumescence asserting itself from below, stroking and stroking until he plunges decisively, deliciously into the very depth of my being.

Arms now snaked around his strong smooth neck as my breasts merge with his chest, I moan barely perceptible words of my lust in his ear as he takes me, strokes me, strokes inside of me, strokes in and out of me until the heat rises to the surface, bubbling up from my core, until the current screams over my skin. In and out, in and out, my cunt clutching as he strokes his hard pulsating cock in and out, in and out of me until it is too much to bear, until I cry out for more, until I beg as this greedy girl should, until the fever serves me up, until I open myself up completely and wantonly, until the light blinds these eyes and my body releases the flood.

Above me, below me, alongside of me, he strokes and touches and pleasure provides, playing, fingering, kissing, fucking, giving, taking, feasting, gorging until the craving overtakes my body, until my mind is no longer my own, until I am woman to his man, until I am paper to his pen, until I am the body on which he writes his desire.

And then I am his to do as he pleases. And then I am his to do as he will. And then I am his. And then I am his.

I am his. I am his. I am his.