I slap and scratch at the desk, pathetically writhing and moaning and crying as my master fucks me senseless. And after all, this WAS my idea, I’m just over-thinking it. XXX Hot I crawl out, forced to follow, and I’m kneeling naked between his legs now, facing him, lips parted by his grip. This is too much. My eyes roll to his laptop, the little green record light is on, the image of myself bent over his desk helpless. I stare into my own eyes as my white master comes inside me, my face a mixture of idiotic surprise and bawdy yearning. I watched a few, and they’re all gross. No. He wants me to like it when he hurts me. This is wrong. Is it a stereotype if it’s true? Spreading luxuriously within me; a precious gift.
