At Home With Zarina

She stopped the beating and rubbed my ass gently and even planted a few soft kisses on my cheeks. A wave of warmth and comfort washed over me.At long last she squirted some moisturizer into her hand and begin massaging my cock from behind, like she was milking a cow or something. It felt sort of cold and clinical because I could not see her or touch her. She was just servicing my body in a detached way. It made me feel like I wasn't a full person - more like a piece of equipment or maybe livestock. Despite this passionless method, I was in heaven. I was still wearing my tight little dress, and the sleazy fishnets. Here I was, bent over and dressed up like a whore; restrained in a doggy position while my captor pleasured me from behind. I certainly didn't feel like a man of any sort. This is not how men feel. This is how girls feel, when a dominant man makes them his sex slave for the night. I was a sex slave now. A sexy feminine sex slave.Rebecca asked me if I liked being her. Reduced to raw, animal, basic instinct. And you felt that, too. It’s why you sent Damian upstairs. You needed me to bend you over the table and not only take you, but flood you with my sperm.”Angus glanced into Erin’s eyes, and then around the table. “Yes, the words are blunt. But, as I said, we can all be candid together now.”Erin was both shocked by the bluntness, on some level, and yet at the same time somehow entirely comfortable with it. With Angus. With Damian. With Dara. And, in all honesty, she shuddered with delight at Angus's mention of his sperm flooding her core. Erin realized that Angus's statement — that she had needed him to bend her over — had been somewhat of a question, if perhaps rhetorical. But he had paused, watching her face as his strong hand rested upon her thigh, her robe falling open, looking at her as if he expected a response. Erin licked her lips, and then, unable to form words, simply nodded at him. She was on fire with the memory. With the way Angus.
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