If only he was less arrogant. If only she was protected. He had all the money in the world - but what good was it now? What could that buy her? Nothin....The teardrops mingled with the water on his face. There was no point in holding back now. Fear. Love. Grief. Guilt. All these years, he had thought that he was immune to this kind of crap. He'd prided himself on being the master of his feelings, displaying excellent control in every aspect. He felt happy when he wanted to feel happy. He felt sad. He kisses me from my waist up to my face and kisses my lips. As he starts to rub my pussy. He kisses his way back down and starts finger my pussy. He then asks me in a dominant voice, "Do you like that, Little Slut?" "Yes master." He yells at me, "Say it right," as he uses his cock to slap mypussy. "Yes master, I love it when you finger my pussy" as he he unties my hands and pushes me to my knees. "Whose pussy am I fingering?" *slap on face with cock "Whose?" I knelt there not responding to. More

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