She finally cried herself out and lay on the couch, wearing nothing but Phil's old undershirt, almost long enough on her new body for a very short min...skirt. Exhausted, or at least momentarily drained of emotion she idly played with a lump of wet Kleenex. She felt better for having cried, better but still depressed. Every movement she made, every sound, reminded her of her predicament. Just the kinesthetic sense of how her body parts were arranged was wrong. Her thighs were too close. “Yes! Hurt me, Steve! Please! Punish me! Punish me!”“Whore!!!” he screamed at me.“Yes! I’m a whore! Fuck me harder! Spank me! Give me what I deserve! Uugghh! Please!!!” And I meant it. At that moment I wanted as much as he could give me. Everything, as fast and as hard as he had to offer. I am a whore. The more humiliating and degrading it is, the more I like it. And I was loving this! Right now, I never wanted his cock to leave my ass. Then I felt his body start to tense. Oh no, not yet...“Not. More

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