He had placed a rug in front of him and now drew me closer to him where he slapped my face again a couple of times more. "You like that don't you who...e?" he asked me "Yes my love" i began "Your fuckin' whore loves it when you slap my face" I added as another slap hit me hard. As I righted my self he leaned forward and now started slapping at my tit. The pain was sharp at first and I backed away a little until he reached over and grabbing my hair, pulled me back and once again sent several hard. After a day at work and dinner with my girlfriend I have found thatthere has always been something therapeutic about stepping into a pairof panties and fastening a bra around my chest. What was it that was sorelaxing about rolling a pair of tights up my legs? Why did putting ona suspender belt and stockings somehow feel more feminine as I fastenedthe stockings to the straps than rolling on a pair of tights?What was so purifying about painting my fingernails and toenails withnail polish and. Her dad looked at Kathryn, with her feet up on the coffee table; her dress fell away from her shapely, long legs. The way she way sitting her skirt showed a lot of leg, in fact the top of her stockings were clearly visible. "Don't tell me you went to work, dressed like that, you look like a slut," yelled her father."Dad, I've been married and divorced. I have two sons, one is a grown man and the other soon will be. Don't you think I can do what I want to, dress any way I want?" Just because. I lingered for what seemed like a lifetime before I realised how abnormal I was and I pulled them off quickly and finished the laundry. Everything seemed to return to normal and I figured I was OK, just experimenting and playing and that was it. Eventually though, our sex life began to diminish. I stopped having orgasms and she stopped wanting to fuck so we drifted apart and eventually we finished our relationship.I have been single since.For ages I was utterly depressed. My life was headed.