Seven A.M.

i think it is his hands that awaken me, i am not sure if it’s a dream, but the hands are firm and insistent, spreading my thighs, parting the lips of my pussy.  i moan.

The clock chimes.  i have no idea what time it is, but i know there’s something i need to remember ~ in my foggy sleepiness, i’m not sure what it is… what… something from last night…

A hand on my waist, on my shoulder, he flips me so i’m lying face down.  Hands grasp my ankles and pull me across the bed.

My feet are on the floor; torso draped across the bed.  He taps the inside of my thighs, the signal to open my legs.

i am registering slowly, memory returning in snatches, but i spread my legs obediently.

“Good girl,” he says.  “Stay just like that.  That’s a lovely way to offer your ass.  It’s seven o’clock,” he says.  “Time to start.  Don’t move.”

He steps back, i can feel him move away from me, and someone else steps forward.  i feel a sharp THWACK across my left ass cheek.

“One,” she says.


15 thoughts on “Seven A.M.

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