She was open and the shop was empty. She was reading a magazine but leapt to her feet when I walked in. Glasses, wrinkles, pale complexion, dowdy whit... blouse and knee-length green skirt.“Mr, ah….” she ventured, recognizing me and desperately reaching for my name.“Lemmon,” I said helpfully. “Ms Bryce.”“Doreen, please,” she said. “And it’s… David, isn’t it?”I told her my right eye was uncomfortable and I suspected there was a contact lens stuck in it somewhere.“I was just about to close,” Doreen. When I said hello he greeted me with .'hey bitch.'We started talking and he told me he liked dominating women and making them his slut. He told me women were only good for sucking cock and cleaning and that I was a worthless bitch that needed putting in her place.He called me slut whore told me I'm a sket and I need slapping for being such a whore. It turned me on so much that I decided to call his phone and moan for him. It made me so wet when he degraded me for his pleasure. He was a bad boy. More

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