I am not sure exactly when this realisation hit me. Was it when I was pulling on a pair of tight girly jeans that I would pair with high stilettos and...found I was not thinking how I might look in the mirror and how the clothes felt to me, but how sexy my ass would look to him? Or was it when in my day job I could still feel his cum still swimming around in my stomach from the night before, and it gave me a satisfied feeling? Or that through the pain of it, I experienced bursts of pleasure as. He would come to my house a few days a week, after school, while my Mom was working, I would train him to serve me, first just by getting him to do my school work, then cleaning my room, while I goofed off. He seemed to be born to serve, he never complained, only complied, perfect wimp, that he was. The lesson was that I could get him to do anything I wanted simply by throwing him a bone, now and then. When I told him I liked hanging with him, alone, to a degree I did, he cried, I knew I had. More

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