Before either of us knew it the question was out there. “You... you said, you’d show me how to kiss”, I faltered. “Would you?” As soon as it...was passed my lips my darling censor followed it with a torrent of abuse that would have made any drill sergeant proud. The self-congratulatory pause in her tirade allowed me to forgo the normal rush of self-loathing and focus on the lurch I felt in my stomach as I asked myself what the hell I’d done. The momentary lag before the self hatred kicked in. Groaning, she arched her head and, leaning forward on her outstretched arms, began to move her body back and forth, sliding her cunt up and down the length of my immense shaft. Her cunt spasmed and convulsed on my penis, squeezing eagerly on its thickness and hard heat. I crushed her breasts and moved her body up and down on my penis. We moved faster, our bodies rocking and jerking with rising urgency, her cunt sliding steeply up and down the length of my immense tumescence. I squeezed her. What is my inspiration to go that far?Unlike a sub a slave like me is a person without any rights, whose very existence must be at the whim and desire of others. Being a slave means that there are no safe-words, no limits, and no restrictions. As a slave I cannot, and also do not want to set any limits since I shall be nothing but a piece of property, owned by the OWNER. There shall be no safeword for me since that would provide me with the ability to stop the OWNER in dominating me, but there. Maine aisha naram kisi ka na dekha tha. Aur mene uske tshirt utarni chahi usne mana kardi. Maine pucha” kya hua.” wo boli ki” ye sab thik nahi hai” mene kaha ” kya tumnahi chahati?”. Wo boli ha magar!! Mai bola magar kya? Kya apna desire fulfil karna galat hai? Wo boli “nahi”.Par wo shirt nahi utar rahi thee. Mai uske chochiyan shirt upar se hi dabane laga. Wo mere hath apne boobs se hatane lagi. Me jabarjasti uske boobs dabane laga uske mana karne wale haath ab mere kandho par the. Wo maza le.