I bit down as hard as I possibly could. I bit through his dick. I could taste the blood flooding into my mouth. I spit out his dick onto the floor. "i... you follow me. If u ever try to find me. If u ever report me missing... I will kill you and it will be slow painful and you will regret ever fucking mom to have me born..." his eyes were consumed by horror and pain.Before I would leave the house I there were things I need to do. I went into the garage and found the big container of gasoline I. I was expecting a meek woman who would fawn all over me. Expectations can lead to the need for quick thinking.I said, rather too fast, "For the photographs." Oh, of course. Shall we do the photos first? We can take some before and after waxing.Do you have a man you can pose with? Photographic erotica is peculiar. Digital editing is allowed, but editing is frowned upon. So rather than edit a man into the prints, if we had a man, we could finish late tonight."Don took me into his salon/studio. "Wait. The clothes need a fabric softener strip."Now she looked at me as if I were already committed to a looney-bin. "I'm standing here naked. A sure thing. And you're thinking of laundry?" She put her hand to the side of my face and said sadly, "Oh, you poor baby. You need me way more than I need you!"My small show of resistance was my last. I ended up sitting on my couch as Alex sat astride my legs. A hand on my cock guided it through her already wet slit. Once my tip was wet and slightly. I'm sure I knew how to walk at the time, but for one reason or another had chosen not to. I was always slow when it came to social conventions.I used to crawl into the crowded walk-in closet of my parent's bedroom. Racks of clothes hung above me, dull orange light leaking in from cracks in the sliding doors, and the floor was lined with rows of shoes, lending the tiny room that leathery, shoe-store scent.My mother's clothes and shoes took up nearly all the closet space. What little clothing my.