"Honestly," said Bess."When did you start writing poetry?" I asked."Since..." Devi's head disappeared under the blanket, lifting it up and down. "Oh g...d." I put my finger to my lips and pointed forward. He nodded. "Since I was 12. You know I play piano." I nodded and realized when he'd been with me how good he'd gotten, and he played jazz. "Well, I started writing songs. I never ... Oh fuck ... I was shy about them." Even with me?" I asked while my fingers plunged in and out of Bess and her. I found myself pleading with him to stop as I struggled under his hands. Empty, meaningless pleas since I knew he wouldn't stop until he was ready to. My hands stayed by my sides the entire time, invisibly bound by the control he held over me, mentally as well as physically. Knowing that he expected me to accept whatever he gave me, to obey his every command. My tits were feeling so tender and bruised beneath his fingers by the time he stopped and ran his hands down my stomach, curving around. More

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