She tore open her shirt and half-turned towards him, gazing hotly over her shoulder and into his frowning face. She let the fabric slide down her back...the way she’d practised in the mirror, displaying one firm, pink nipple and tempting him to lean forwards and bite.Each time she does this, over and over and over, she feels the same sensation: lust. Not regret: desire. Need. A powerful, pleasurable kick in the pit of her stomach. A touch of vanity. Greed. She’s driven not by a need to be loved. " Just then I looked around the bar room, and into the other rooms. I estimated well over 50 men there and John said more were coming. He warned me the party is going on all night and likely all weekend with guests showing up the whole time. They expected between 100-150 men to show up before the party ended. Then John yelled into my face "YOU WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO LEAVE UNTIL THE PARTY ENDS, AND EVERY MAN HAD YOU OVER AND OVER! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME PIG?!" Just as I said "Yes master" I felt the. More

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