Michaalkaa

i take her out on a date, we are sitting across each other at a restaurant. i look deep into her eyes and tell her just how flawless her makeup looks, how stunning the dress she picked is and how breathtaking her body looks in it. i watch her cheeks turn red, her laugh grows nervous, her words get more shy.

on the way home, i drive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other drawing circles on her thigh. i keep feeding her little crumbs of approval: i laugh at her jokes, keep saying how funny and clever she is, how interesting i found that story she told me, how i could listen to her talk for hours. i observe how each compliment makes her muscles tense, her thighs press together.

we get to my place, i make sure she notices how i'm looking at her like i've been hunting her all evening, making sure she feels like a prey. i put my hands on her waist, pull her closer, and start whispering. i tell her just how much i crave her. how her scent is intoxicating. how i've never needed anyone the way i need her. her breathing gets more erratic, and the look in her eyes changes.

i say her body feels unbelievable as i tighten my grip, and a whimper falls from her lips.

i stuff my fingers into her mouth and tell her how good her tongue feels, then smile when i feel her starting to suck them more eagerly.

slip my hand beneath her underwear and let out a sigh when i feel how wet she already is. "such a good girl for me... getting yourself ready like this".

i slowly slide inside her and don't stop saying just how perfect she feels from inside, so warm, so tight. i let her know i am going insane with the way she's squeezing my fingers and watch how every word that leaves my mouth makes her squirm harder, whine louder, get more desperate and eager to please me, to show me how much of a good girl she really is, to make me proud to own her.

i keep making her cum again and again until her body is trembling, exhausted. her mind is completely clouded, unable to form a coherent thought. and yet, she keeps taking me like my personal little toy. she knows i'm addicted to how she sounds when she cums, and she needs to make me happy more than she needs air.

Worrying is like thinking. Worrying is something people do, not what you should do. Worrying means having to try and understand things, means having to try and think. That's not for you. That's not what you're for.

You are a soft, dumb object.

You don't worry, you don't think.

You cock your head and blink when you hear big words, and giggle when they tell you they weren't talking to you, and take your tits out when they call you a good girl.