I couldn’t use my hands. Every time I opened my mouth, his hand slapped down again, wet and stinging. I couldn’t explain why it made me wetter tha... ever.“You like that, angel?”I lost count of how many times his fingers slapped down. All I was aware of was the way I clenched each time, my body struggling to process the edge of pleasure that accompanied each flash of pain. Once he was done, he edged me relentlessly, taking me that one step closer each time like he was learning exactly where my. One August evening he was logged into my account doing his thing while I made dinner. His running commentary made me laugh out loud more than once. “This dude belongs in a leper colony,” he said about one. “Yikes, I think I saw this guy’s picture on a ‘Wanted’ sign at the post office,” he chuckled about another. “Oh my God, this next guy is sixty and he looks like his mother dressed him for his profile pic.”That continued for about fifteen minutes, then he suddenly got quiet. I turned away from. More

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