He smelled cooking coming from the kitchen at the back of the house and thought he heard someone moving around back there, the sounds of pots and pans... forks and knives.Peter stepped into the kitchen. He could feel the warmth of the stove on his face. "Ms Franklin?" he called again.The kitchen seemed to be empty. Peter walked around the kitchen table where various steaming dishes full of food had been laid out. He stood in front of the stove, scratching his head. There were two pots boiling on. "Very good, it looks like you've followed instructions well enough. You might be a fun little slut." His voice sounded familiar, certainly an older man, but I couldn't place it. Footsteps came closer, the door closed, and I heard his gruff voice above me. "Have you ever done anything real with men before?" I shook my head, only having ever played with toys, looking at porn online, and fantasizing.. "But you want to, don't you, slut?" I hesitated for a moment before nodding my head slowly,. "The swallowing part not so much." You don't have to do that part," I said."Actually, it's the getting it in my mouth part that's a little icky. I've never tasted anything like that and it's weird." You don't have to get it in your mouth," I said."You're sweet," she said. "Tell you what. That's going to be a special treat for you," she said." Like on your birthday or whatever. Every once in a while I'll swallow. But most times I won't, okay?" Deal," I said. I didn't grin. I wanted to, but I. I was sure this is what love felt like, it was total agony.One Saturday in bed, when Miguel’s flat mate was away for the weekend, He slid his fingers into me, lying beside me, he cooed softly into my ear in His mixture of English and Portuguese, "Preciso dar minha querida dor – I need to have you in a way you have never been taken... say Yes to me, por favor, Belle" The smell of his skin, the confidence in his voice, the sound of his words in Portuguese, that I didn't understand, everything.