I had lost my father too early and my mother only a few years later. It was one of the few things in which life had not treated me kindly. How could I make them semi-orphans, just because their mother had turned out to be a fucking whore.But how could I go on breathing when it felt like one of the sandspurs, those little round balls of sharp spikes that used to grow all over the yards of my childhood, had somehow gotten lodged deep within my heart and every breath made the spurs tear my flesh. There had to be a trick to it. If I could keep breathing long enough, I'd find it.The door opened and a vision in pink and white silk glided in and sat down on the bed beside me. As she moved, her heavy breasts swayed to and fro under the dressing gown. I tried to understand how Gail Hunt could be here in what had to be sometime during the late morning judging by the light coming in through the large French windows. Why wasn't she at the bank?"It's Saturday, Hugh," she said, reading my mind. The teenager was kissing me frantically and before I knew it he had my black panties pulled down and three of his fingers in my soaking pussy. Then he had made me suck him off, as his birthday present he had said.And now Jack is my master. And I am his obedient dog.Obviously Dan had not only agreed to this, but actually encouraged Jack to ?transform? me, as Dan put it. And for myself, over the four year period since I had known Jack, I had become more and more addicted to his touch, to his way of humiliating me and to his domination of me. I secretly adored his visits and his rough way of dealing with me. I always felt very alive and vibrant when Jack visited. I always missed him terribly when he left. And over the last year or so I had been fantasizing more and more about Jack, fantasizing about him brutally dominating me, using me, and abusing me. I lay there on the floor at the foot of the bed waiting for Jack. Jack had led me upstairs by my dog lead after our intensive session in.
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