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I wanted to be a dominant. I wanted control. But that inequality was so alien to how I was raised that I felt tremendous guilt about it and never told a soul about my desires. The guilt, however great, never stopped me from fantasizing. If I was going to turn over a new leaf, and try to be open and truly honest with my potential partners, I needed to acknowledge this part of me. Let it out, and learn how to engage it.Suddenly I realized what was so terrifying about being myself. I was petrified about letting the dominant part of me out. What if they thought I was sick. What if they laughed. Worst of all, what if I hurt somebody? Jesus. That would destroy me.But I was stuck on the horns of a dilemma. I couldn't go back to how I was, that way led nowhere, so I could only go forward, but I didn't know how to make a first step.I was contemplating that when Anna called. I hadn't realized it'd gotten so late. I hadn't eaten anything or moved from the table where Jenny sat down hours ago.. Sickening, sentimental, slush, she decides. But it’s her own fault, choosing modern female pop stories as the subject for her thesis. Dreamily she redrafts it in her mind, He struggled with his bonds, his temper gradually rising, finally he found a weakness. Angrily he worked until it gave and, free at last, rushed to her side. Her relief faded as having unfastened her legs he ignored her bound arms and violently ripped away her clothes. He forced her legs apart and savagely drove in his already hard manhood. His thrusts were vicious as he vent his anger on her, his grasping hands bruising her soft boobs, his tool hurting her dry tunnel. ‘Please! Please! Be gentle.’ He ignored her pleas as he emptied himself into her. ‘Together at last,’ he murmured as he finally withdrew. He untied her arms. ‘Never again will I let another man have you.’ That was a fantasy she could relate to, there were times when she could wish to be that woman, to rouse that emotion and desire in a man, to be a.
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