I just came on his fingers. You stop, looking up at me. "Get up!" You bark. "What did I tell you?" You whisper in my ear, nibbling it slightly. "Not t... cum." I mumble. "I can't hear you." You say, in a seemingly calm manner. "Not to cum." I manage a little louder. "And you came, didn't you?" You ask, as I nod. There is a silence as you think about what to do with me. Spanking isn't an option - too many people would hear. You drag me by the arm to a private shower cubicle, turning the steamy hot. Not that he was aware of this of course. A searing pain thatencompassed the entire event was all he felt but each night in hisdreams he returned to the mirror and was served with the samevision of pony-tailed sweetness, of his own Barby doll portrait ofDorian Gray. In the morning the images of himself as a radiantteenage girl were gone and in their place only the residue of heavyguilt. The night before the meeting he found himself once again inthe bathroom shaving his legs and arms. But this. More

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