How does that feel?”“Fine,” I said.The riding crop stung the tip of my hard-on. The flash of pain was exquisite, but was gone as quickly as it c...me.“What?” she hissed.“Fine, MISTRESS,” I said, through clenched jaw.“That’s more like it,” she said. “Next time I won’t be so gentle in my correction.”“Yes, Mistress.”She strode around the bed, looking down at me so thoroughly restrained, my erect cock pointing straight up at the ceiling. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her pendulous tits, swaying. We might have a need to work on our relationship. The particular morning a Hardee’s bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit occupied my mind, as well as a the sight of a fisherman in his kayak. I assumed he was trying to stay warm.I watched the half frozen fisherman as Alison read about our witch. It was a two year old cold case so the odds of us doing anything other than a fiction piece were long. Still it would be interesting, I thought.“There isn’t much in this file,” Alison said.“There was less than. She's not been very responsive in bed, seeming distracted, and looking for excuses to go out alone. He decides to follow her, and discovers her and her brutish lover in a dingy, low-rent motel room, where he is forcing savage, brutal sex on her.Kinda formulaic, right? The cuckold, willingly or unwillingly, has his spouse 'stolen' from him by the Bull for sexual exploitation. Sometimes even against her will, ostensibly. This stereotype plays heavily on the Bull being all the things that bulls. “I will if you keep that up,” I moaned.She looked up from her work for a second, released me from her lips, and smiled at me. “Merry Christmas,” she said. Then she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft and licked, starting at my piss slit, thoroughly tonguing the entire head, and then working down my shaft to her hand and back up again. God!With her hand still wrapped around my base, she began bobbing her head slowly up and down on me. I noticed that her eyes were starting to close.