Then the paddle again. Whack. Whack. Ten more strokes. Jess was moaning deeply now. I climbed between her legs and laid my cock against her ass. ...I poured a little more oil into her crack and leaned forward.“What should I do now Jess?” The head of my cock was pressing against her sphincter.“Fuck my ass.”“Is that how you ask?” The heat off her ass had my erection pounding. I knew I wouldn’t wait long but I wanted her to beg.“Fuck my ass. Please!? Please baby, fuck my ass. Put your cock. Once he got in her she'd sobbed pathetically, like a little girl, even as he groped her tits and hissed in her ear that she must "love it"; that she must "love" the feeling of his dick.She honestly hadn't, at first. His raping instrument hurt physically but the emotional pain was even worse. Memories of her dad, of what'd he'd done, of how she'd ended up here... it'd been awful. Traumatizing. So Amy had sobbed hysterically: she'd sobbed loud and hard as her foster-father brutally raped her. "As senior military adviser"—he pointedly reminded Miller that his status was more than that of an ordinary civilian—"I thought I might suggest that such might not be in the best interests of shipboard harmony and might even prove to detract from your mission here. When I was commanding the earlier—" Thank you, Mr. Igwanda," interrupted Miller, reinforcing his prior slight. "Your advice"—he emphasized the word—"is always appreciated. I'll certainly give it full consideration. Now, if there's. She was a mother of a young child, and had to make do with a part-time job, and what little help she got from a ne'er-do-well abusive husband. He had been in and out of the state for years, and hadn't made much contact with her. But then, after going through his collection of photos, he found himself becoming aroused by her photo.He found other pictures of her, and became obsessed with her beauty, innocence, and vulnerability. He manipulated any photos of her that he could find, fashioning them.