.. please, just ... let me wear the bra."He ate a spoonful of cereal."You know what? Since you have trouble understanding my orders, why don't you just stay naked?"Nicole stared at the screen."I can't ... I can't do that."There was a knock on the door.Everything he'd forced her to do so far was at a distance. Most of it was just in front of the webcam. No real people involved. There was that person who had photographed her pressing her breasts against the window but that was from such a long distance that it was almost impersonal. When she had talked to the pizza delivery guy she had been wearing a T-shirt so she could at least hope that he hadn't seen anything. To just stand there naked in front of some stranger...The knock came again.She shouldn't have said anything. If she begged him again, Barry would punish her even more. It was just a few seconds of humiliation to prevent more pain and to keep helping her sister.Nicole went to the door and opened it. The delivery man was a big. Show them. Why are the decisions always on me? Why do they all fuck with me? They can’t fuck with me. Any of them.Panting, not at what I'm doing, yet, but at the shadows and echos of the outside world and your 'real life', in your head. The moronic letch who makes obvious comments about your private life. The treacherous 'married' who, adored by most, sidles up to you and would 'accidentally' brush his grey-slacked penis against your arse in the coffee queue, if only his gut didn't obscure it. The tedious spinsters who whisper behind their own cunt-stained fingers at the only girl in the office who's 'getting any'. If only they knew half the truth. How this noise and chaos gets dealt with. How your muscles squeeze around my fingers when my palm delivers the searing, stinging relief you need, almost as much as the orgasm you know will follow. The rope grips your wrists. You pull against it. Not to test it, but to feel the pressure increase around the soles of your feet, and.
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