Reading: The Mammoth Book of quick and dirty erotica, part 8 "handcuffed"
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This is a series of reading erotica books whilst being in the nude. Today, for a change of scene, I am sitting on a tall drawer unit in the attic.
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Handcuffed. I look down at the scars on my wrists and think of you. I think of when you
handcuffed me, put a collar round my neck and led me round your house on a long chain.
You pushed me down to your sofa and spread my legs. You fucked me without looking at
me. Handcuffed. I look down at the scars on my wrists and think of you. I think of when
you handcuffed me, put a collar round my neck and led me round your house on a long chain.
You pushed me down to your sofa and spread my legs. You fucked me without looking at me. You
flipped me over as if I was weightless, as if I was nothing. I screamed out even before you spread
my arse, before you pushed all your length into me with one thrust. When it was over and you
removed the handcuffs, I sat there rubbing my wounds. You looked at me. You were all sweet,
all panting breathlessness through my university life because you couldn't. Because I was too much
temptation. You'd promised your loving, faithful, good and thousand other positives, Catholic wife
that you wouldn't wander from the path again. Those were the exact words you used to me and
I'm guessing the exact words you used to her. Wander from the path as if things you did to
me were comparable to a little exploratory strolling on your daily walk. But at the time I was more
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