The good Christian values do not include porn, phone sex, adultery, or even masturbation. Wasting seed is not acceptable. (The Bible doesn’t explicitly mention masturbation, but it offers clear principles related to purity, lust, and self-control that guide believers in making decisions about sexual behavior. These teachings suggest that actions like masturbation, which can lead to lustful thoughts and behaviors, may be considered sinful.)

Leviticus 15:16-18 says if a man orgasms, on his own or with another person, he is unclean and must take a bath, then wait till sundown to be clean again.

What about nocturnal emissions? Deuteronomy 23:10-11 “If there is any man among you who becomes unclean by some occurrence in the night, then he shall go outside the camp; he shall not come inside the camp”.

By no means am I a Child of God, but what about losing everything to save your soul? In my belief system one is able to self satisfy for the sheer need of pleasure. I am a daily masturbator, so does that mean I am going to hell? According to some, yes, but then again, I am not violating an uninvited couch along the way.

According to the thinking of some is that the world has lost it’s Christian values and we must get them back. I believe that we have a choice in the matter. I don’t want anyone coming into my bedroom and telling me who, what, or where I should have sex. Do you? How about sexual positions? The only one acceptable by the church is missionary and only for procreation. There is nothing wrong with a little pregnancy fantasy, but I will be damned if I lay on my back and take the seed of another because God demands it.

No matter on what page of the bible you stand, there is a very good chance that your right to access things that you enjoy will soon be gone. What will you do if you can’t masturbate anymore?

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“I want to be gang banged and for you to arrange it!”

Not the normal thing you would hear on a Monday morning, but hey, this is his fantasy, not mine. Who am I to deny a man what he has dreamed about all of his adult life. So, I did it. I posted an ad in Grindr. I wanted to see if he got more traffic than the RNC. Doubtful, but I was sure there would be a few guys needing to bust a nut in a wanna be cock whore.

Meet us behind the local Walmart for a cock busting.

What I wanted to say was come participate in getting this slut gang banged, but I didn’t know if that was legal to do. Hell, I am sure a few cops would take a dip in the dirty waters given a chance.

As pretty as a cheap whore on a Saturday night, my “friend” waited for the first one to show up. Remember, this was all his ideal, not mine. I put him in a neon green pair of spandex booty shorts and a crop top. Not normally a cross dresser, he looked out of place. I sat in the car while he leaned against the hood smoking his last cigarette for awhile. The first car pulled up and out came this normal dad looking guy. I could tell right away he was nervous, but that didn’t stop him. Making small talk with my friend, it wasn’t long before my little slut in training was on his knees with his mouth opened wide. God, I love to see a man suck cock.

No sooner had the first one busted than the second arrived. Here we are behind the local Walmart taking deliveries of cum. This one was different though. You could tell he wasn’t going to waste any time. Pushing him over the hood of his car, yanking down the green shorts, and slammed what look like a 9 inch cock into his ass. This was the gang banged sessions that I wanted to see. I have never heard anyone scream so loud when a cock went in as the one I was watching. Every thrust in his ass lifted him a good 6 inches off the ground. Good thing his eyes were closed or he would have noticed the line of cars forming. None of them waiting for the best deals at the Super Store.

Gang Banged bitch dripping cum from all holes.

Two hour later and the new whore couldn’t take anymore. He tapped out, but not until he was dripping cum from all his holes. That walk of shame was epic, but guess who just texted and asked for me to hook him up again this weekend. Happy Labor Day Sex Fest!

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Let’s face it an orgasm makes everyone feel better. Even a bad one is a good one. I’ll let you in on a little secret. Every night, even if I have fucked, I masturbate myself to sleep. For me it’s natural melatonin and I can rest all night. Weird, right? Not when you are an over thinker and can’t turn off your brain. A good orgasm shuts that right off.

I often get asked about what I think about when I masturbate. If I told you that, you would be shocked. It’s not what anyone would think about me, but for me, it does the job. What about you? When you set that scene up in your head, what trips the switch? I would love to know what gets people off when they fly solo.

Have you ever thought that maybe masturbation is better than real sex? Think about it. The only person that you need to give an orgasm is yourself. It’s a selfish concept, but one that I often wonder about. I cum hard all by myself. Sometimes better than when I have to worry about pleasing a partner. Not that I can’t, but I’m greedy. I want all the orgasms for myself.

Don’t deny yourself an orgasm.

So, here’s the challenge. I want to know what you think about when you jack off. Send me all the details of your favorite little kink. The writer in me is interested, but the highly sexual Goddess really wants to know. For me it’s about making all the dreams a reality, if only for a short period of time. Maybe I will tell your story in my next book, but don’t worry, all names will be changed to protect the deviant. I believe that we all have a story to tell, so how about yours? I want all the orgasm details.

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Have you ever had that one moment that you will never forget? I do. I like being an exhibitionist, but this wasn’t me this time. This was my phone sex caller. He did the unthinkable and damn, was it funny for me. Maybe not for him though.

Imagine it’s after work and you have a long drive home, but your dick is saying otherwise. It’s throbbing from the office girl teasing all day, and driving is almost impossible. What do you do? Cause an accident or pull over at a rest stop and handle the problem. The choice is yours.

I’ve done plenty of calls with this man, but this was a first. Right off the top I could hear that he was on the highway, and got worried. He assured me he was pulling over and would be fine, but still, something tingled inside of me that should have been a warning. We flirted until he stopped and then the call got heated. I gave him some JOI (jack off instructions), and he tuned out the world around him. My voice can be hypnotic.

Everything was going great until a knock on the window changed all that. Yep, it was a cop doing a wellness check on my caller. What do you think he did? Wrong. He kept me on the line and sat the phone down for me to listen.

My exhibitionist was in trouble.

The cop knew what he was doing. I could hear it in the tone of his voice. Instead of just walking away or telling him to stop, he decided to fuck with him. My caller had to do a field sobriety check and even show the coffee he was drinking was just that. Coffee. Thank God for the mute button. I have never laughed so hard in my life.

This entire encounter with the cop took about 10 minutes, but it was probably the worst and scariest 10 minutes of his life. After being assured that he was okay, the cop left with a warning to move on. Did he? Nope. He finished the call, grabbed that orgasm, and then went home. After all that he deserved it, and I got a memory that I will never forget.

So, beware of where you jerk off. Cops are out there looking for you naughty exhibitionist bandits.

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I love those chronic masturbating sluts. The ones who can’t think of anything else without it going back to sex and porn. I know many, but most won’t admit it. Believe me when I say this, they can’t go a day without thinking about their dick. Everyone has a particular kink, but some are being destroyed by it.

Let me tell you about CM (Yes, that is abbreviated). I’ve known him for a few years longer than he would like to say, but the truth comes out in the bank statement. CM isn’t the normal gooner. He gets nice and drunk and can’t stop himself. Without the alcohol, he is just the normal 6 figure a year businessman. Nice house, lives alone, and has a dog. Not that all that is important, but I just want to give a background that this could be anyone.

A gooner is someone who rapidly indulges in one thing not realizing the outcome until it’s too late.

I met this man in a online chatroom, and studied him before speaking. He is picky when it comes to woman. The one thing that sets him apart from the normal gooner is that he will drop you the moment you show him a nude picture. CM comes from a time where modesty was sexy and a though a woman can be a slut, he doesn’t want that to slap him in the face. No tits and ass pictures for him. Instead I give him women dressed provocatively, but respectfully. With every picture comes a shot. His favorite is Captain Morgan and Cupcake Vodka. I don’t drink so I am guessing these are pretty strong because he gets stupid quick.

The more he drinks, the more I make. Tips are a wonderful thing. He never calls, only tips. We don’t talk about the sexual act, just about how much of a loser he is doing this. The longer we talk, the more combative he becomes. Honestly, I can’t stop laughing when he’s drunk. I never say filth, but he calls me every nasty name he can think of. That’s all okay because that loser is paying me for it all.

A mindless brain dead loser marinated in alcohol.

The longest I’ve spent with CM is about 10 hours. I won’t tell you how much he spent, but most don’t make that on a 2 week paycheck. Poor guy. I almost felt bad, but then I had him pour another drink to settle down the buyers remorse. He was back the next day for more so don’t feel back for this gooner loser.

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I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be right here. Looking out the window of my beach home while the maid scurried behind me to get things in order. I can’t help but giggle a few times when I hear the sweet little hums of a man doing a days work. In the reflection of the mirror, that pink uniform and bouncy ruffles let me know that the emasculation process is working. This is not for all men, but for the beta boys who dream of being beneath the sharp stiletto of a Goddess.

His chore list is left on the wall at the entrance of my home, along with the pink uniform that he must endure. Later in the emasculation process he may move to another color, but that will take time and devotion. I am not the kind of Goddess that will abuse a submissive, but the kind that forces them to bend and mold into my personal puppet.

Once the beta boy changes, his next move is to stand before me and allow the chastity to be applied. I use a lightweight device that changes the personality of a man quickly. They go from Alpha to beta once the lock is clicked and the key is removed. I do love the look on their face when they realize life as they know it is over. As pitiful as it is, I feel that his real purpose in life is revealed.

Emasculation is not the end of the world, but the beginning of a new chapter in life.

As the tasks are checked off, each one will earn the submissive man another point. A chart is kept in a secure place as a reward system for a job well done. Once he reaches the desired amount of points, he can trade them in for a reward of his choice. If he is found to not complete the task as needed, there will be a form of punishment delivered. Each time it will be different, but well deserved.

Task 1

Remember standards? 100 times you will write out “I am owned by Goddess Gypsy. I will do only her wishes.”

You will write these by hand, take a picture, and send it to me. Only then will you be rewarded.

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Warning: This contains subject matter that some would find offensive. Blasphemy included.

A blasphemy fantasy might scare some, but I am the kind of girl who finds the spiritual side of life taboo. Growing up, having my knuckles whacked with a ruler, and my soul said to be going to Hell. I don’t scare easy, and I have my dress picked out for my first dance with the Devil.

Sighing out, it was Sunday morning, and I had missed Mass again. It was becoming a sad routine for me. I had even laid out a dress, heels, and stockings on the chair by the bed. Of course, my bible rested on the top of that pile. I never go to church without it. Through the pages, I have written in the side notes, but I added pictures to go along with the verses I love.

A temptress can lead a Man to temptation. One look into her eyes, and she will force you from grace and be your guide to Hell. My notes in this area come with pictures that show acts of blasphemy and whispers of how the Devil’s temptations taunt us.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, my long red nails traveling through the pages of ancient times. I got lost for a moment in my latest blasphemy fantasy.

“Sister Mary Catherine, what are you doing inside of there for so long?”

The young Nun had been in the confessional for an hour now, the line outside growing. On the cusp of the holy season. The church had been preparing for the influx of parishioners.

Settled back in the tiny wooden room, the prayer candle now worked in and out of her holy hole. On the other hand, Father Jacob had blown four loads inside the small confines of the booth. What would happen if found?

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a day since my last confession, and last night, I did something horrible. I am ashamed and need forgiveness for my sins.”

Father Jacob had since pulled his dick from beneath the robe. The bible now on the floor and collecting drops of his precum on the pages. Fluid leaked as he stroked and listened to the new Nun tell her about her miss deeds and failures.

“I left my room at 3 am to get a drink of water from the kitchen. Walking by Father Michael’s room, I heard the sounds of lust. He was calling out for women. Vile words came from his room, and I thought I could help him. Help him sleep through the suffering.”

She went on to tell of how she entered the room and found him pounding away at his fist. He was jerking off and calling out all the names of the Nuns in the parish. Her hand was now rubbing her clit hard, soaking her fingers to the knuckles.

“Sister Mary Catherine, please! People are waiting for this room!”

The Mother Superior was getting quite agitated with her. She needed to confess what she had done with the Father and how she had lived out her blasphemy fantasy.

“Father, he was in so much pain. His penis engorged with fluids. I tried to help by stroking him. My fingers were wrapping around the thick, elongated shaft. The more I pumped, the harder he got. That’s when he suggested I place him in my mouth and take communion from him.”

The Father was now stroking harder as the Nun explained the events of her first blow job. How she tried so hard, but couldn’t get him to blow a load.

“At first, I licked him. Long strokes up and down his cock. Then he suggested that I take him deep into my mouth. I almost cried when his hand forced my head down. He was so hard and beastly. His member was raging.”

She massaged over her wetness, forcing the candle in and out of her pussy. She was supposed to be a virgin, but the night before had taken that. Losing t her virginity to the Father who she tried to help the night before. The white pillar candle that she now used still had traces of red staining.

As I sat on the bed writing this, I knew that I would be going to Hell in the afterlife. How could I not? Everything about this was wrong, but I could see it all in my mind while writing it.

“Father Michael was in horrible pain. He asked me to place him inside of my womanhood. To allow his cock to break my bindings with God. I wore my wedding ring as I grabbed his cock. When I wrapped my fingers around him and inserted him in the seal, I felt my finger burning. I know that God was watching me and casting stones on me. Oh, god, Father Jacob, I allowed him inside of me fully!”

The Father in the booth coaxed to her to go on. She knew he was jerking off. She could hear his hand rubbing over his dick. He was bringing himself to orgasm after orgasm with her dirty words.

“I’m scared, though, Father. He pushed all the way in and relieved himself. Told me I would be carrying his baby now. A child would be inside of me, and I would have to hide it from the others. How, Father, how can I hide his child? I can’t do this. I wanted to help him, and he gave me a baby.”

Her words stopped as she finally came. She knew she was pregnant with his child and that blasphemy fantasy made her pussy squirt. Sister Mary Catherine had come where there should never be filth.”

Replacing the candle on the wall and pulling her robe down, the young Nun still flush-faced and ran from the room. She told them she was ill and had fallen asleep in the arms of the lord. Of course, no one can fault her for that. Jesus is where she should feel safe.

Exhaling deep, my hand slide into the dresser to my right. My favorite dildo now in my hands. If I couldn’t go to church, I would pray at home. Taking the rosary bead from the nightstand, I dipped them in lube and bead, by bead, I slid them into my asshole. Only the cross was showing when done. It rested on my asshole and tickled a little.

The bible laying now on my stomach, I shivered from the power behind it. I know the words hold so much to them that instead of watching porn, I held the book up and read. Hell is where I was going when I slid that dick inside of me. That fake one that felt like a dagger plunging into my core. How deviant can one fall before worried? I will let you know when I find out.

“Our Father, thou art in heaven.”

She moaned out. The words never held a lot of meaning until now. I was soaking wet from this. I was saturated so much that the tiny replica of Jesus that hung out of my ass made wet slaps. Would God forgive me for this one? Would he chalk it all up to a blasphemy fantasy? Or would he shove me down to the fire pits of Hell and let me rot?

Clenching my cheeks around the threaded beads, my cunt exploded into a river of lust. Not before I placed the bible between my legs and caught all the splattering juices. I have never in my life came with that intensity or power. All I needed was for the control of Christ to compel me. Shaking as I laid in the bed of body fluids, lust, and sin, I couldn’t quite understand how I came that intense and how Sister Mary Catherine had affected me that deep. Was my blasphemy fantasy taking my soul?

Fear is what I use to feel from a blasphemy fantasy, but something inside of me changed. I now feel as though it is the one thing that makes me feel the most alive. Realizing that I have already sealed my fate could be the reason. My spot on the throne of Hell is waiting for me. No longer will I fear what controls me. I will embrace it. I know that I am never going to heaven, so why fight it?

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As the sun began to rise, I suddenly remembered why I left the blinds open the night before. Laying next to me was my latest escape. I think his name was Tom, but it could have been Ted. Honestly, I didn’t bother to remember it because I thought this one night stand would end with him leaving in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for him. I’m not too fond of the early morning awkward goodbye. Something about this man made me want a little breakfast in bed.

As he slept, the outline under the sheet gave me a little hope that he would be dining in as well. His body defined underneath the now ruffled fabric, it was his midsection that caught my attention. Thick, long, and I could even see the large mushroom head of his cock. God, coffee is excellent in the morning, but cock is fantastic.

I traced my finger around his manhood, well, not touching him, but my finger moved as though I was a phantom ghost. Perched on my side, part of the sheet covering my bottom leg, it took all my self-control not to slide over and on while he slept. I was trying so hard not to be rude, but I have never been a sensible woman. Not when it came to men, at least. As much as I wanted him, I allowed this God of a man to sleep in my bed. That right, he would never know he was the first to last all night.

Rolling to my back, my hands refused to obey my mind. I brushed the tips of my fingers over my breasts. My nipples hardened almost immediately. I felt like a naughty teen who was about to get caught touching herself. What if he woke and saw me with my hands in my cookie jar? I’m honestly not shy, but I don’t know my morning lover, so do I care? Not in the slightest.

My fingers traced the pattern of a lover over my flesh, prickles of lust rising in their wake. I imagined his touch on my skin, the way he would take the remnants of the night before the lower he moved. Spreading my legs only a tiny bit, I bit my lip as my fingers teased the source of my heat. Still sleeping, my lover never moved an inch, but I felt as though he was watching me each time I closed my eyes to allow my body to escape into my bed of self-discovery.

As my breathing quickened, my fingers pushed deeper into the puddle of honey between my thighs. My own creation because of the condom wrapper from the night before lay on the nightstand. I might be reckless, but I’m not stupid.

Dipping deeper, I knew that if I was quiet, I could cum without this man even knowing, but wouldn’t it be better if it was him touching me? Too messy to have a second round with a stranger, though I wished for once that I wasn’t so scared of commitment. I was almost panting when the voice to the left of me stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Now, what do we have here this morning? Bad girl playing without me? I really should spank you for that,” he said.

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Disclaimer: A story of Kitten and her Master. This is not about me, but erotic all the same. Enjoy.

I have this dream that last night developed into something so intense I ripped the sheets off my bed. Not getting properly laid in a year is driving me to the brink of insanity. I know the man I am dreaming of, but I won’t say his name out loud. I can’t. He tastes like arsenic every time I even think of him. There is something so forbidden inside of me I can’t even fathom letting another man touch me. Not when I know, even without a touch, I know that no one could ever satisfy my needs again.

“Don’t you fucking dare come into my dream again tonight,” I warned. As my hand pulled the corner of the sheets tight, I smoothed out the linen to a flawless surface. Clean sheets are a little kink of mine. Sleeping naked feels incredible when the bed is freshly made. Pink with the tiniest of dots, everything about my bed screams female. Why not? I allow no one into my bedroom. It’s the one place where I feel the most at home.

The lights off, I opened the veranda doors to a gust of ocean air, sending chills up and down my spine. “Fuck,” whimpering, the kiss of salt now coating my lips. There is no place in the world that I love more than the beach. I guess you can say I am a fish out of water and need to stay close to home. My eyes stayed on the beach as my hands moved to remove the long white t-shirt I slipped on after a bath. Up and off, the view from the beach would give anyone a shock, but sadly, there was no one out. Yes, I am sorta an exhibitionist at heart. I left the doors open wide before slipping between the comforter and the sheets. Most people would call this a touch of insanity, but I called it hopeful. I guess there is a part of me that believes he will find his way in and show me what a little slut I really am. The other part of me fears his appearance. I’m not sure why, but there is something so mysterious about this man.

Eyes closing, the sounds of the ocean crashing on the shore, in the distance the songs migrating whales are finding their way home. There is a place where the mind lives when you’re almost asleep. A twilight state that allows everything you ever denied creeping in and scratches the back of your brain.

A weight shift on the bed, the side closest to the open door indenting. The scent of his cigarettes filling the room, the one he held in his hand freshly lit. Hitting the cancer stick, his blue hues filling with amusement. He smiled from his eyes more than his mouth. As the tip glowed the hottest shade of red, he rolled it slightly over the bare thigh that lured him in. His lips curl as the flesh heats, forcing a slight moan.

“Wake up little, Kitten,” he growled.

Soft moans. I knew he was there. My entire body was heating from the touch of that coffin nail that he perched between his lips.

“Stop,” I lied. I called him in my dreams, so asking him to stop was a complete and utter lie. Wanting more, not less. I wanted him to push that cigarette into my flesh and force the screams to rip from my throat. God, what is wrong with me?

“Beg me to stop,” he laughed, the same cigarette now resting on my left ass cheek.

“No! I don’t beg anyone,” I snapped. Whimpering at the cherry tip that heated my flesh. I swear I could almost smell my skin branding from the warmth.

Laughter filled the small room, the windows shaking from the force. He knew better than that. She would drop to her knees and beg him if he demanded it, but knowing she was denying herself amused him even more. Maybe it was her age or lack of proper training, but if he fucked her, she would know better next time. Snuffing the cigarette out, his hand moved up the center of her back, knotting in the glowing strands of her blond hair. The way the moon seeped through the open door cast a small halo around her head. She was no angel. Ripping her head back, forcing the slender curve of her neck to arch, his laughter was short-lived.

“Liar. You don’t beg me to stop because you want to feel it all, don’t you?” whispering, his teeth grabbing the shell of her ear. “Liars go to hell, Kitten,” adding.

“Stop it, I don’t like my hair pulled,” whining. Every fiber of my being ignited with want. I wanted him to fuck me more than I wanted air to breathe, but saying that wasn’t easy. I pride myself on being a strong female, so this was causing my stomach to knot. “Why the fuck are you doing this?” I asked.

Silence, the only sound in the room, his breaths. Laced with fine hairs, he held his fist tight. A ponytail of hair kept captive by his weather-beaten hands. “Beg me to fuck you,” he said again, this time his voice holding a hint of anger.

Screams inside of my head telling me to say no, but the only words that formed on my lips came out in rapid pants of want. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” I cried. God dammit, there it was. The truth always comes out in the end, even when you fight its appearance.

“See there, Kitten. Was that so hard?” he said. His voice filled with sarcasm. He knew the truth. Hell, he could smell the sweetness of her pussy when he wanted in the room.

“Roll over on your stomach and stretch your hands to the head of the bed. Hold it tight and do not release it. After that, stretch your legs until they hang from either side of the mattress,” he growled.

“Oh my god,” whimpering, I didn’t want to spread my legs. I knew I was soaked and as soon as I peeled my thighs apart, he would know as well. Feeding his ego is not what I want tonight. As my pulse quickened, I rolled to my stomach, reaching out and catching the fabric with the tips of my fingers. Next, my legs pushed apart to the sides of the bed, curling the arch of my feet around the ledge. “There, are you happy?” I snapped.

A sharp exhale and he moved to the open space between her legs. Looking down, her lips glistened with moisture. She was sopping wet. “Do not move at all. Do not twitch your body in any direction. If you do I will go back out the door I came in and you will never see me again. Do you understand?” he asked.

My chin resting on the bed, I whispered, “I understand.” God damn, what was he going to do to me? I’m not scared, but every sense in my body’s heightened and on a high stage of alert. I closed my eyes to allow my body to calm down and accept what he was going to do to me.

“Good, Kitten,” he growled. Leaning down, he brushed the stubble on his chin over her ass cheeks. Smirking with little prickles of lust formed on her skin. She was dying, and he knew at that moment the level of control he had over her. Breathing through his mouth to let blankets of warm air kiss her flesh, the anticipation of her moving delighted him. Would he leave if she did? You’re goddamn right he would. A woman needs to learn who is in control.

“Please,” I whispered.

Retracting his hand, he licked the palm before slapping her ass with full force. She needed to learn patience. As the outline of his hand formed on her fleshy cheek, he moved his chin down to brush back and forth over her swollen lips. The spike bristles of a few day’s growth just scratching the surface of her mound. A large calloused hand on each ass cheek, pulling her apart to view his entire meal. “Looks good enough to eat,” grunting, he buried his face in the middle of her ass. Sliding his tongue up and down her backside, he stopped when he found the small starfish opening to her asshole. A push against the rim. His hands tightened on her cheeks, indenting the skin with the molds of his fingers.

I blacked out the moment his tongue probed my ass. God damn, son of a bitch, I could cum from ass play alone. Most women lied and said they hated it, but I know I wanted it all. I will never turn down a punishing ass fuck. Slowly opening my mouth, I gripped the sheets with my teeth to silence the moans that threatened to spill from my lips. I didn’t want him to stop and took no chances.

As his rough chin rested against her lips, his tongue fucked her ass, each time pushing the tip into her core. A rough rake of his teeth over the outer rim. He wanted to devour every inch of this woman. Back and forth he shook his face, her pussy lips covered with invisible scars from his scruff. Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, he waited. His eyes on the slowly parting lips, he waited until a trickle of honey slipped from her pulsating cunt. A strike of his tongue with lightning speed, and the sugar was gone. Devoured like a snake taking a victim of his very own. It was the first time he tasted her cunt, but it wouldn’t be his last. The scent is an aphrodisiac, but the taste, pure addiction.

“Please fuck me,” I begged. Yes, I begged. He wanted me to beg him to touch me and I am no longer afraid to do that. An hour ago I would have laughed in his face, but right now, I would sell my soul to the Devil for one night with him.

“No!” he laughed, sliding from the bed. He stood at the edge, looking down. Go to sleep and you may not cum until I tell you so. Good night, Kitten,” he said, slipping out the way he came in.

I rolled to my back, shocked, as I watched the drapes blow in the wind. “Fuck you, goddamn you,” I cried, knowing sleep wouldn’t come for me tonight. He left me high and wanting another touch from him.

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