Something hard and sharp that pressed him rigid. A shoe or a weapon that made him groan as he felt it lacerate him. Damage him, leaving a trace, a mar... that could not possibly be explained.?Shall we begin?? asked his Mistress, but there was no answer just the sound of another getting onto the groaning box.There was no sound of heels and soles this time, just a pad of naked feet and then a groan from the wood of the box as the third person moved on the box.?Fuck him,? said his Mistress in a tone. Going over to the recliner he sat down on the leather heavily and switched on the television. Staring blindly into the screen he wondered why was he so insecure? Why did he crave to hold on to his wife when he never really had her? She was just a doll who never said no to him for anything, she agreed with him on just about everything and yet there was a part of her he could never reach. She was never an open book, never laid her emotions bare and raw for him to see, hurt or heal. Sighing he. More

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