His lips grazed her ear, his forehead resting against hers. His voice came out hoarse as his hips met hers. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She opened her mout... to speak but he stopped her by kissing her gently. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered again, picking up his pace. She held back all the things she wanted to say and chose to keep this moment. Her arms slid across his back, grazing over his scars but not lingering, pulling him closer to her. She groaned in his ear as he slid into her harder, feeling himself. The tears come; I know he hates them so much. He whispers to me:“be quite little whore” I cry more, I don’t want to be his whore I want to be his princess.“smoke for me” he saysI do. Each time the huge object in my arse is thrust further in I exhale streams of cloudy white smoke. It hurts so much, he pushes it harder and harder, deeper and deeper, faster and faster and each time I cry out. “Please Scott no, please it hurts, please stop, please, I love you”He stops then. He hates that I love. More

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