She said if I didn’t do exactly what she said, she would scream.
She would scream and scream and then tell everyone how horrible I was. How I looked up her dress. How I showed her dirty stories.
She said I had to stay still and let her do whatever she wanted. I had to let her smack me across the face. I had to take it. I had to let her hit me until her hand hurt.
I had to stay still and let her crawl over me, cover my mouth with her pretty panty-covered pussy and rub and rub and laugh as I begged for what was underneath that cruel silk.
I had to. Or else.