My heart is in my throat as I click to open. I don’t know quite what he means until a photo icon flashes up. If you’ve any sense you’ll stop this right now. Squirming on the bedsheets as my clit begs for release. I’m desperate for a response as I stare at that screen. I tug on my nipples and pretend that it’s him. You’re a dirty little bitch who’s going to get what’s coming to you. I don’t need to wait long for another message. I tug my bra down until my tits spill over the cups. I am a dirty little bitch who wants this. He tells me that I’m a dirty little bitch who asked for this. He grabs my tits so hard it takes my breath. It always hurts and he always makes me take it. It’s always rough enough to make me cry out. He tears my knickers down and pushes his fingers inside me. He tells me that maybe he’ll let me enjoy it if I don’t fight him.įuck, I’ve been waiting for this. Sometimes he forces me onto the ground, sometimes he drops me to my feet and throws me against a wall, his body pressed tight to mine.Īnd then he whispers. I’m tempted to scream just so he’ll make it worse for me. I’d scream if his hand wasn’t over my mouth. Strong enough to pick me up as my legs flail.
The monster always catches me from behind. My pussy throbs when I take my fingers away to type. Taken.Īnd then I’ll tell you what you’re going to be given. Tell me what your monster does to you when you think of him late at night. If you’re not careful, I’ll bite you hard. I’d be dishonest to claim I’m not planning on fucking you like a beast while you beg me to stop. I’d be lying if I told you this conversation hasn’t woken something deep. I’d be lying if I told you they didn’t make me hard. My breath is ragged when the message pings. I’m already playing with myself when the typing icon shows on screen. My pussy is aching, my belly fluttery with crazy fantasies. If he wants this even half as much as I want this. I wait with tickling nerves, feeling like my broken soul is on parade while a total stranger reads about my nightmares.
I may have cringed if it wasn’t for the alcohol. I can see the ending line of my last message, bold as brass on the tab. Brave enough to wait online so boldly for him to arrive. It’s almost midnight and I’ve allowed myself a couple of glasses of wine to finish up my Saturday evening.
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