It’s like she can make me black out the moment I lay eyes on them. The very next thing I remembered was us walking back to her apartment. Her hand i... mine, I felt groggy, like I had been drinking. My face felt wet and stained. The undeniable scent of pussy was all around my nose. My hair was a mess, and some of it was stuck to my forehead. My balance wasn’t 100% but she didn’t seem concerned as we walked at our normal pace. In fact, I could see that smile on her face. The smile that tells me. Laura had been my ?housecunt? for 16 years, never working andtaking care of the house and our child. Now she would be myhousecunt and slave, completely. Laura’s slavery was to become shockingly complete. But this had beenevolving to this clear and obvious goal for over 16 years. Part of ourcommunication, as we began to develop our mutually satisfactory relationship,was through stories and poetry. I will admit that when Laura first began towrite her intimate thoughts to me it was a jolt. I. McCarthy," Harlan said, and then I heard more rustling of the phone."Daddy, it's me," Amber said, apparently calmed down."Amber," I said, "just how pregnant are you?" Nine weeks," she said. "Harlan is the daddy." When did you get married?" Mom signed for me and made us go before the Justice of the Peace last week." Right after your birthday," I said."Yup," she agreed.I didn't want to ask about Jeanette or love or Emily; Rick was putting on his pants and I needed to get off the phone as soon as. If somebody tickled her during sex, Joan wanted to be stretched on the rack (again), with cigarettes applied to her armpits and feet. Joan worked out regularly to keep herself fit enough for such imagined tortures. She took pleasure from the endorphins released by pushing herself in the gym. But none of her dates would push her far enough sexually. On the other hand, her special Internet contacts turned out to be pudgy, socially inept posers. Joan couldn't submit to a man unless she.