She continued to pull off and let me cum on her tits or any part of her body except her face, I guess that was just to close to her mouth for her.Well...it finally got to the point where it was making me feel like she didn't care about my sexual needs, and was starting to put some stress on our relationship, me wanting it so bad, and her feeling pressured every time we had sex.Things continued on for a little while longer, when I was at the point where I became more bold with my request to cum in. Nothing heavy, just some marijuana now and then, some snorted Ritalin and vodkashots to make the party last longer, be more fun. To get me started. I had my hair to my waist, bleached an allmost white blonde, my skin covered in black and grey tattoos of trees, flowers and vines, all intertwined.This perticular friday night, I had my hair braided in two braids, some skintight patent leather tights in black and a bandeau top, also black, leaving my flat stomach bare, letting my pierced. What would a convent look like. Would it be this stone, Gothic structure out in the middle of the fields? It wasn’t corn here, but wild grasses that grew waist high. The van’s wheels crunched on the gravel as we drove down the lane. It followed the curve of the land, a little folded here and not as flat as it appeared.Sister Chastity Hope squirmed the entire way.Ahead, a wooden structure appeared. It looked like ... a very large house. It was clear it was meant to shelter more than just a. I move quietly to the door and let myself out. The harsh light of the hallway is blinding. I move quickly to the den and over to the bar. I pour his drink and grab a tray. Carrying it back to the room, I take a deep breath and enter quietly. He hasn’t moved. His flaccid cock lays to the side. His dress shirt is still buttoned and he’s leaning his head back, his eyes closed. I kneel before him, holding the tray and very quietly say, “Your drink, Master Alex.” My head is down. I see his tattooed.