'This has to beher real home, yet...' His eyes darted around as he reached the top of thestairs, his gaze scanning for things that should be there, bu... weren't.There was an occasional painting or piece of abstract art throughout thehouse, but nothing else. 'No pictures. Not a single picture of any livingperson. No clocks. Not a mounted clock, a grandfather or a digital displayof any kind.' The house was silent, still, and Bayonetta had yet to turnon a single light. He couldn't shake the feeling. Twice she froze up and then came, squirting when she moved her hand. After about 2 minutes, she stopped jumping and just sat their, head hung, breathing heavy."I leaned down to her ear and said "And just think how hard you will come when I help!" I raked my fingernails down her back as I walked past her and it looked like she had another orgasm. She was having little mini-tremors.I walked around and had a look at her place. It was nice, 2 bedroom, little kitchen. I turned around and she was. Wide stone steps led to oversized front doors. Inside, you faced a grand half-staircase. The wide stairs directed guests to the second floor and main living space of the home. Side steps led down to the first-floor utility spaces and what would be a professional sized gym.The entryway would give visitors a straight line of sight to the corner focal point of the building, the living room and its soaring two-story bank of corner windows. To the left would be the kitchen and a dining area, to the. I was out of my mind. This was beyond anything I had ever experienced. I felt his rage, his passion and wanted him to fuck me more than anything. I was desperate. I had to have it. I knew that what started out with me wanting to turn him on and give him pleasure turned into something else. He wanted to hurt me, punish me, pour his hurt and pain into ravishing me. It wasn’t role playing, but in a way he was telling me how much he loved me. “Take my cock, Take it! Take it! Give me your pussy!.