You’re nothing more than a little whore, and you should want to please me,” he told her, pushing his fingers as deeply into her as he could. She c...uldn't respond. The pain was turning to pleasure and her head was swimming. So she nodded, hoping he would see. He slapped her hard on the ass once again, pulling his fingers from her ass and grabbing her by the hips so that he could fuck her like a proper whore should be fucked.“Oh, god. Yes, please, yes… Please fuck me,” she moaned into the pillow.. .. Shit ! it must be my daughter and Sam ! But why the number ? I'll die if they've read them ! Do I ring the nimber ? As I calm down a bit it all seems a bit odd. I can't for a second imagine my daughter being up for that if she'd read my work. So it must be Sam but what does she want. Is it her number ? I had to wait 2 nights until my daughter left her phone on charge in the kitchen and went to bed. I descended and looked up Sam's number. No need to check, the number in my story was etched. "Yes. Yes Mistress. I mailed you." "I know. I read it. Tell me." Even as I had listened to her giving me the instructions I had not fullyrealised everything it had meant. In the middle of the night. No clothing.Make him hard if need be with my hands. No lights. On my knees from behind.Make him cum. Pretend my own climax. Not to cum under any circumstances. Ithadn't seemed much. Just an ordeal to go through for her. I 'd do anythingfor her. I was obsessed by her, her control of me. Though I. ’ The best defence is an attack or some such. She quickly covered her breasts with both hands. ‘Don’t mention my breasts, they’re horrible. My nipples are as thick as my thumbs and sticking out like ripe spots on Martin’s face.’ Martin was Mum’s new boyfriend, another of her uni students, just a couple of years older than us. ‘And my tits look like those things they’re shooting from those jetplanes.’ ‘Missiles?’ I offered. ‘Yeah, tits like missiles.’ ‘Ah, com’ on,’ I said, feeling she was too.