It was awful. He bullied her and hurt her. He used fear and intimidation to dominate her.Are you going to show her?I don’t know. I don’t know if I...��m going to even tell her.If there were an important chunk of your life missing, would you want to know about it? Even if you knew it was awful?I think I would.You’re her master. She will follow your lead. As her master, what do you think is best?I wish I could give her the knowledge without her having to relive the event. He scrubbed his hands over. “Daddy…” I began. It took every ounce of control inside of me not to buck my hips to force his hand to penetrate my dripping, throbbing pussy. “What is it, baby girl? Are you still hungry?” he asked, biting my neck and shoulder. “Starved, Daddy,” I replied. My pussy was red, and ripe. The cool air against my wet lips was a stimulating contrast to the heat emanating from between my thighs. Kisses were planted softly up my shoulder, and, with more intensity, up my neck. When our lips met, I. Must have been around twenty years. ‘Then one day it all changed. I was back in a town I’d been to before and someone recognised me.’ — ‘Logan?’ The woman was about his age, and but was still attractive enough. He probably wouldn’t have given her a second glance though, if not for the fact that she’d recognised him. She definitely wasn’t someone he’d known in his old life though. ‘Sorry, is your n- are you Logan Turner?’ He grunted in the affirmative. ‘You don’t remember me, do you? You waltz. But here, I made some guacamole.” Christina gently grabbed her husband’s limp cock and guided him into the kitchen. Carla got up and walked to the table by the front door. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. She gently held the cigarette in her lips, flicked the lighter to life, lit the cigarette, and blue a grey plume of smoke into the air. Her pussy felt tired and abused. It felt good. It felt hurt. She ran her hand between her thighs and squeezed.