CLICK, CLICK, ZIIIIIP. LXVI.- PARALLEL LIVES 🟰

Every morning, at seven-thirty when I left home for work, I would go down to the second floor, open the door with a key and get into his bed naked until he woke up. I would say, “Good morning, love,” I had to turn my back to him, positioning myself so he could enter me spooning… like that, every morning.

I left that room with my ass sore… from love, and my vitamins that would last me until night, when it was time for my other dose, this time by mouth.

At midday I often ate with him and before the siesta I had to tell him about my activity as an active-master, who I had fucked and how, while receiving punitive spankings and belt lashes and making me return the masculinity he had lent me.

Humiliating? Maybe, but who says it wasn’t true and that after what he did to me in Budapest it wasn’t true that he had stripped me of it?

Do you have any idea how much that man fucked me over the years?

P and Topsecret were staring at me with their mouths open and tears in their eyes.

Do you want to hear more to get an even more accurate idea?

Every afternoon, after work, I went down to his apartment. One hour. Sometimes two. There wasn’t a single day he didn’t wait for me naked on the sofa, watching television, with a cigar in his hand and his cock already half-hard waiting for me. I knelt down. I kissed his feet. And he would say to me, in that improved but always broken Spanish: “She has come, my plump Spanish woman.”

He fucked me wherever he felt like it. On the sofa. In the kitchen. On my knees against the countertop. Standing in the hallway, with my face pressed against the wall. On the dining-room table, with the curtains open, because it excited him that someone might see. He never cared if they saw me. It excited him. Luckily no one saw me.

He made me dress in his clothes. His big shirts, which fit me like dresses. His underwear, which hung off me. He sat me on his lap while he watched TV, with his cock inside me, without moving, just feeling him filling me, while I trembled without daring to move without his permission.

He took me to the countryside on Sundays when I could, which was… practically every Sunday. He bought himself a Range Rover, and we went to Guadalajara to my wife’s house on the estate, remember, Topsecret? That’s where I fucked you for the first time. (Chapter 28)

We chatted, laughed, played cards with rules that he set and changed at will so I would always lose, and there, in the little house, he sodomized me half the time.

The other half we went deep among the vegetable gardens, to a clearing we prepared for that purpose, and there he undressed me. In the open air. In the middle of nature. He laid me on the ground, on his jacket, and fucked me slowly, looking up at the sky, while the birds sang and the wind moved the trees.

He tied me to the bed with ties. He blindfolded me, and spent hours tou...