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The Better Woman vs. Ewa – The Mistress of Milan – Part 2

The Better Woman vs. Ewa on FCF

Jennifer The Better Woman

Together we roll until I shift and lift — pull and place us. Exactly where I want not only you but me. Our bodies pressed together, thighs crossed, and sopping wet sexs locked together. Lips parting for lips, as our clits search for each other in desperation.

It is brazen and insolent — daring and risky, trying to force my will upon you. But with every second our battle continues, I become more and better for you. Growing in both confidence and strength. Changing from the shaking, timid, breathless creature you seduced in your living room to everybit the hellcat you want me to be.

And that hellcat wants this. This placement. This position. Wrapped around each other like spiders at war, just feet from your massive, lip and doorless, marble-walled shower. And though our binding leaves us bound at our very cores, thrusting and dragging our wetness together, awkward by force and forceful by passion, I am still your perfection. Still exactly the monster you sought to create.

And so, though I let you suck and nibble on my lower lip. Loving the distant glimpse of softness in our vast sea of war, as soon as we’ve had it, I attack you. Using my left hand, which remains cruelly bound in your hair, to hold you. All as my right hand lifts and then fires down and in tight, splashing down across your cheek in a harsh slap. One I repeat once and then twice.

The strikes coming even as I fuck you. The intensity of our passion not dimming for even a moment. Not since we entered this incredible bathroom, or since the moment you first entered into my site. The air between us having always been alive with electricity, and our hearts alight with a fire that threatens to burn our very souls.

A fire which drives my hand, after one more stinging and echoing slap, to curl into pressing claws as it remains on your cheek. Not stabbing in yet — they just remaining as I look deep into your eyes and then speak.

“Can y-you crrrryyyy for meeEeEe, misssstress?” I ask in a stuttering and broken hiss, as my fingernails dig in deep and begin to drag. Our hips never ceasing their thrusting as we share it with each other. Pleasure. Pain. And a promise.

This doesn’t end when one of us gives. We are final and permanent. Eternal and unending.

Dr. Ewa-stein and her creation. A Vampire and her thrall.


Splayed across, I glare at you. Legs open. Welcoming…. Inviting… Daring….. Challenging….. And we both play hostess and guest…

Wedding crashers who just want to go in and raise hell upon each others serenity…

Gasps… Moans…. Yelps…. Our eyes shut, both seeing fireworks… Sparks… Lightning bolts….. Supernovas and Big bangs…… It’s divine… It’s cruel… It’s ferocious… Laying in a puddle of our hair, sweat, tears, and blood….

We embrace… We lock with every ounce of our beings….. The lines blurred between the mistress and the slave….. The huntress and the prey….

We’re one…. We’re both sharing the roles, vying for dominance… Battling for that ‘more’ you growled and demanded, when I showed you just a hint, before even began……

My wet labia slap yours, kissing, thrusting, our clits fencing and dragging… I groan, biting my bottom lip, refusing to cum again to you…. I just… Fucking won’t… Not until you do it first… I’m using my all to keep my emotions under control… Tapping at the wall…. Grimacing while my bitten toes spasm in the pain that’s keeping my sanity grounded, and my cum inside me…..

But you do not relent… You’re an obsessed succubus… And you can smell it like a shark in the water… Your nails etch my face, and your… hissing… struttering…. gasping hiss sends a shrill cry from my lips, your nails carving down my cheek… I yelp in pain as you mark me with five fresh furrows and I fall to my back… Gasping as I lose control, and you grasp it… Grabbing my thighs, you begin to thrust hard. Fucking me…. Harder and harder, while I flutter on my back like a fish out of the water…… I try to sit up, but you are not giving me a chance… You’re fucking me… raw… hard… wildly on the tile… Each thrust sending my body sliding on the tiles an inch, until my head is suddenly pressed into the wall, and you begin your pursuit of fucking me THROUGH the wall…

I scream and reach up, pressing my hands to the tils…. I reach up.. I see the towel bar… I grab it and I pull up, propping my body up… My biceps clenched…. I hang on to it like a monkey… My body now higher than yours… My legs curl around your buttocks and I cross my ankles there… Having the higher vantage now, I begin to… THRUST…. To hammer… To pummel my pussy into yours from above…. “Can y—yy—ouuuuuu ccuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm fffffoorrrrr meeeeeee, Jeennnnniiiiffeerrrrrrrrrrrrr…” The r’s in your name turning my voice into a deep, guttural roar….


In a battle as intense and passionate as ours, thoughts are but wisps and plans but shadows of a flame. And yet still, in that madness of malice and mashing bodies, I believe I have a tactic. Hold true that I have a plan.

That if I focus on hurting you and not on our kittens. On the pain I cause you, and not on our pressing enters of sexual strength and carnal capacity. On your own cries of pain, instead of our warring womanhoods that drag fast and then slow — roughly and then gently — pressed so tightly together that it hurts and then so close to separating that I nearly cry. That I can resist the building.

The welling of want and wild, strength-withering pleasure.

The pleasure that this crossing of thighs brings me.

And for a moment it works. For a moment, as my nails drag and your lips part in the scream I want so desperately from you, I have it.

You falling from our seats of equal presence and pressure to your back. And when you do, I give chase. Leaning in and down, atop and upon you. And though such is wise, in certain endeavors, as I do, I lose it. My focus. My plan. My every thought shifting from your suffering and onto your pleasure.

From your screams and shrieks of pain to your moans and whimpers of pilloried-cit delivered pleasure.

And when that shift occurs, it all floods into me. How sexy you are. How beautiful your wounded breasts look as they bounce up and down beneath me — driven by my every thrust. How your eyes, once confident beyond measure, now fill with the tiniest glint of fear.

A fear that I will drive you to orgasm again, before you have done the same to me.

A fear that fills my mind with a dangerous, delirium-derived dream. What if I win? What if I beat you? What if I have you to do with as I please when our battle ends?

It is that thought that breaks me. That weakens me, as you begin to recover. Recover and lean up. Rebound and reach for the towel rack above you. One you use to pull yourself not only even but up and above me as I collapse off of you and to my back.

I want to break free. To push my ideas of dominance from my mind so that they no longer press me into being less than I was only a moment before.

But as I do, and as the fire within you flares and grows, licking at the pupils in your eyes and exhaling in your every, sauna-hot breath, my mind finds a new weakness to cling to.

Loving your strength. Your power over me. Your dominance, over my own. And though I was able to rid my mind of one strength-breaking thought, I find myself unable to do the same to do the same with this one. With one in which you claim me and fuck me as a slave.

And so as we move like a tiny red stick on a meter, from me having you on your back to you having me on mine, I soften and wilt. MY arms reaching up and around you, pulling your body into mine as you fuck me. Pulling you down and my lips to your ears so you can hear it.

My every whimper and every moan. Every sound of revelry and titillation, as you thrust your clit into mine.

Until finally, in a sudden happening that shakes me to my very core, I seize — tight and stiff. My arms which once pulled grabbing you hard around you, like a life-preserver in a sea of not else. You being my only hope, my only glimmer, in a fiery soul-rending explosion unlike anything I had ever felt before.

One that steals my breath to the point of asphyxiation, and my strength to the point of collapsing beneath you. My arms falling from your neck and to the floor beside me as tears fill my eyes.

I want to kiss you, but I cannot move. To curse you, but I cannot speak. My every ounce of strength converter to a red-hot stream of essence that spilled from my pussy onto and into yours. You taking it from me — stealing it from me, in an orgasm I will never forget. Not one at the end of our battle, but in the midst of it.

One that leaves me broken and beleaguered beneath you. At your mercy, until I can recover.


I hang from the towel bar…. Clutching to it, and pulling myself up…. My eyes turned to red coals.. Of passion… Of rage…. Of desire….. The pulsing red bright scars on my right cheek still raw, flesh… they haven’t fully sweltered yet, and the blood is young, still an infant, bubbling up shily from the bits where the skin was fully penetrated…..

But I don’t care… I’m possessed…. The pain… Anguish… And fury… now taking a second place to this… duel….. This battle of wills, that were changed the second you yanked us up, and demanded I cum again for you…. A mortal spitting in the face of a Goddess…..

Breaking the illusion… Casting off the false shroud of divinity, and exposing the snake oil for what it is…..

An act…… You’ve bled the Goddess… You’ve tasted her cum…. It still stains your thighs to this second…. . And now… You know you can bring her down….

Would you seek to replace me??? To chain me to one of the walls in the dungeon… Will my slaves wonder whose screams are so loud at night… Her whimpers and moans so deep….. Will they wonder why it sounds so familiar…. Or will seeing your battle-marked body strapped in the spandex and leather make them forget that I ever existed…. The thought sends a fire through my spine….. A twitch to my pussy…..

No… No… Not… today… I grimace and slam into you hard and knock you to your back… And like an acrobat releasing her grip on a swing 80ft in the air, I leap….. But I don’t need much faith to know where I’ll land…. Atop of you… My breasts slapping on yours… Your arms go around me, and you are gasping. You’re squeezing. I bring my hands up, and cup your cheeks… I curl my nails softly, and press them to your skin.. I could rake… I could claw… I could hurt you… But I don’t…

I pull my nails off and just cradle your face… Watching your eyes go wide, your lips gasp for air as your lungs start to seize…. My hips grinding and gyrating with yours…. And I just whisper softly to you in a low, almost too gentle voice…

“Shhhhhh… Just…. look into my eyes….. and cummmmmm…” And you do… So wonderfully, so perfectly… Not once in my life, did I realize that orgasms could be graded… that there were… better… orgasms than others… Me…. whose house and dynasty is built on pleasure and pain….. Never felt something like that….

The rapid fluttering of your abs….. Clenching and relaxing half a dozen times a second, your muscles tapping at my own own abs…

The way your thick thighs tense… Your arms squeeze me…. I moan and PUSH into you harder… “Yuuusssss…. Give it… to me….. All…. ALL… ALLLLLLLLLL of it………” — And with a shudder you spasm and gush hard….. And my eyes shut, moaning, biting on my lip… As you shudder and cummm.. and keep… on… cumming… Your body, once proud, defiant… Once SO close to having me explode a second time…. Is now drawn with mine.. drawn TO mine…..

I smile.. And as you gush…. I slowly slide my fingers across my face… My left fingers…. Moving like spider legs, crawling over your chine and lips… My palm finding it’s way over your mouth, and my fingers press and pinch on your nostrils… My right hand, moving over, to seal it over… To double it out…… My lips curled in a smile…

Now… you know why I didn’t claw you…. Because I had better plans… And the worst part of it, is that my hands did not snap…. they did not come out of nowhere… You felt them there for almost a minute… And I let them slowly telegraph themselves up… While you cum, paralyzed with your ecstasy, unable to do a damn thing….

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With every other I have been with, I am one. I am either or. Either dominant and attitudinal or playful and cute. My tone and tenor changing to match the needs of my lover — the personality of my other.

With you, however, I am torn. I am two. For in my heart of hearts, I want to please you and be yours. Your collared slave — your sexual servant. One who will do whatever you ask, willingly and with every ounce of strength I have within me.

But what you ask is for me to fight you. To hurt you. To battle you, and I have. And I will. Forever and always, until you wish it otherwise. But as I cum beneath and for you — under and on you, my resolve to be hateful and hurtful fades.

And as that force and fire dissipates, at least for the moment, I find myself wanting nothing more than your touch. Than your body pressing into mine and your eyes staring soul-deep into me. Than to give into you entirely and completely.

As consequence, as your fingers crawl and hands move, as your palm presses and digits pinch, I offer nothing.

No resistance.

No pleas.

My body and soul drained from the most incredible orgasm of my life and my every remaining neuron, capable of firing, gives me only one instruction.

Submit to her. To your mistress. Let her own you. In part and in whole. In every way she wants, and then in as much as you can offer, Jennifer.

And so beneath you I suffer and suffocate. My tear-filled eyes finally letting those tears be shed. Not out of self-pity, but of joy.

Smother me mistress, I beg without speaking. Steal by breath and drain me until I am nothing but a heap of clay, so that you might rebuild me in your own image.

Content though I am, gleeful even, in my quickly depleting reserves of oxygen and with burning lungs, like a ghost, they begin to haunt me. Your words. “The reason you are here… Is pain….. Not only receiving it… But… dishing it back…… I brought here… To…. fight…..”

I try to fight them. To remain your submissive. To bask in the glow of your dominance. But, as if those words are fate, they pull my hands to move, even as you look down at me.

Those duty-drived limbs moving slowly and stealthily, my left to your hip and my right between our essense-glued mounds. Then, before you can resist or react, I drive that latter hand between our still-crossed thighs, my fingers thereafter reaching not for labia or clit, but to enter you, nails-first, they seeking to sink into the soft, wet, pink flesh therein. All as the hand I placed on your right hip seizes and holds.

My gambit based on a simple theory, that if I can cause you enough pain, you will release your smother, before I pass out beneath you. Before the lights which already dim, go out.


It’s the little things…. It’s always the little things…. It’s why most people get it wrong…. It’s why joy and true pleasure is so rare in this life…. Because everyone is looking for the grand… For the imposing… The ostentatious…. For the size of the room, and not the windows….. For the name of the artist, and not the humidity her art was stored at…. For the brand of the car, and not what’s under the hood…

And you…

You’re an amalgamation of tiny details… Every feature… Every inch… Every sound… Every motion… Every look… You’re perfection… A sensual overload of pleasure… And nothing else… Because even in this pain, I can feel and derive the pleasure….

Even as I slowly lift my hips, to give my own sex a breather, you raise yours, keeping your pulsing, gushing sex glued to it… Because you don’t want a droplet of your honey to slip without mixing with my own….

Your arms falling off to the side in the ultimate gesture of sweet surrender…. Making me smile…. Stare at you…. Moan… Purr softly and delightfully….. My muscles relaxing….

You’re giving into me… Into my will…… And…. You’ve done the perfect job…. You’ve pleased me… You’ve hurt me.. You’ve satisfied me… And even though you got me first, I got you last… And that’s what matters…. I smile, and lean down, pressing my lips on the back of my palm, kissing it, my chestnut tresses brushing against your soft skin…… Watching the sweet delirium take over of your eyes…

“Shhhhhhhh… Just… rest…. my sweet….. You’ve done… We—–” But just before I finish my words…. Just before I give you the gold star on your forehead like the exceptional pupil that you are…… The deception fades…. The surrender unravels…. The web tightens, and my body spasms, frozen in place…… Staring at your eyes, as I feel the deep plunge of your claws…. Two of them, stabbing into my pussy….

How did they enter so far… How delirious was I with my illusions of superiority, to not feel it creep there and into my slick, lubed sex, stabbing just an inch below my G-spot…

While your other talon sink like an Eagle’s claw into my right side…. Stabbing into my kidney and obliques….

I gasp… Whimpering… Frozen… My lips trembling……. Staring at you in shock…. My hands slowly peeling off your face… And I see it… I see that… Devious….. look…. And you… SEE it first… The little crook in the corners of my pained lips……. The smile trying to form it’s way…… I want to scream it out… To tell you how… perfect… you are…. But.. I can barely move… And you feel it…. You feel the soft flow of my juices, running down your fingers… you’ve…. you’ve gotten me… again…..

My impaled sex trembles and seeps down my captured honey down your spiking claws… Running down your fingers, and over your palms and knuckles….


What will it be like when this is over? What will I be to you, when one of us has won? This struggle. This battle. This war between women and wills.

An eyelash’s width we were away from discovering — a second’s passing we were from finding out. But I pressed, despite my fatigue. Pushed, despite my aching. Giving you more of what you wanted. More of what you need.

Doing so by with one hand digging two of my fingers deep into your nether, and with the other holding you down. So that I can keep you atop me and from escaping, as I clawed you from within.

And though I planned only to hurt, so that you would release your smother, as my fingers entered, I saw it. Your face contort not just with anguish but desire. And at that seeing, I alter course and began to finger you. Not slowly and gently, but fast and hard — desperately and deeply. Driving my digits in and then dragging them out.

Such ventures cause you to shudder and seize — whimper and moan atop me. Your focus drifting as your smother and pinching hands retract.

Sputter and cough though I do, gasping for long-denied breath, as you weaken, I fight to sit up, pressing my body into yours. And as I drive you further and further towards the cliff of sexual oblivion, you obey. Not by choice, but by desire and distraction.

It makes me smile and then smirk, seeing you pull back and away from me, as I continue to pump my fingers in and out of you. Never stopping. Never ceasing my invasions of your sex, even as I will you and I both to a stand.

It is then that you cum for me. Once more and atop my fingers. YOur body shuddering and shaking, until the very moment I fear you might fall. And when you go to, collapsing forward, I prop you up with my body and guide you.

Taking you back and into your ludicrously large shower, and pressing you against the wall of the same, as the last waves of your orgasm pass. It is only when those lapping waters of pleasure have passed do I stop driving my fingers in and with dragging pressure pull them out.

With those retracted digits and the hand attached, as I lean into and against you, keeping you pinned against the shower wall, I reach for the only handle I can find. Turning it, until from a multitude of heads surrounding us begins to spray perfectly warm water.

And as that cascade of streams rains down upon us, I find your hands with mine and lace our fingers. A meeting of palms and binding of clawed tentacles that I lock us into as I bring my forehead to yours and whisper.

“This…. Isn’t…. Over…. Yet…. Bitch….” My lips meeting and catching on yours with every word. We sharing every breath, as we exist there in the humidity-drenched shower. You flattened against the marble wall, and me keeping you there, daring you to struggle against me.


The stab of pain….. It’s…. a strange feeling… One that I know I’ve exposed so many to….. The clients who always demanded more… Something… extra… that none could provide….. That would come to my dungeon to get the sinful pain they never dreamed possible… I never questioned their kinks…

And for the right price and disposition shown, I would indulge them in their deepest unrighteous of acts…..

As any exceptional Domme I understood…. The depravity… The need to be belittled and humiliated, but I never.. related it.. I never found anyone to help me experience it… And then… There are you…. My Vladette Dracul…. Impaling me… Not on spikes… But your claws….

The surge of pain causing my body to seize… And my lips to brighten, exposing the depths of my own depravity… I’ll ask you about this moment. What you saw…. Because I don’t know… You’re the first to see this expression… This need… This urging gasp for…. ‘More…..’ And my lips begin to slowly move, mouthing the same word you growled… “… MMmmmmoooorreeee….”

And you pull on my side further, but your claws curl away and you begin to finger fuck me… Thumping me hard.. Pumping me as my cum drizzles down…

A steady flow… A stream… A little river of life…. Of essence.. of Ewa… Flowing happily from my depths and across your fingers…. I collapse but you catch me…. A warm embrace… A hug… While I moan softly into your bossom…. Feeling you shift… Lifting us up…

Using my pussy like a little handle… A steering wheel to drive me back against the tiles of the shoulders, before splatting my back against it… I moan out…. My body trapped between them and yours… I try to steady my knees….. But… They don’t want to….. They are content to just slack, and let my body sag into yours, for you to do the heavy lifting…

The water splashes on, and I moan softly as it drizzles down on our head… Pouring on my hair and body.. Slowly washing down the cuts… My arms, moving back, pressing my wrists the wall… Waiting… Waiting for their lovers to join them…… And without delay, your fingers move in, interlocking, and you press your body to mine…..

Your forehead presses in… Panting, I stare at your eyes… At your face…. And listen to the words…And I just… smile….. it never left my face… From that moment that I realized that your fire was not extinguished…

From that high of taking that turn, thinking the rollercoaster ride was over, only to see that the best part is still left, tracks that run endlessly, ebbing and flowing like the crayons of an ethereal child on an endless sheet……

“Say it…. again…..” I purr at you….. My fingers slowly tightening back….. My body squirming softly, letting my breasts slide up…. My nipples dragging along yours… The cuts and bruises aching, but it’s my dagger hard nipples that glide, to touch yours, press, bend that are at the spotlight…..

“… Bitch….” You repeat the words, and I roll my head back, pressing my hips forwards, MOAANNNINGG, as I let the shower drizzle down on my face… SMACKING my pussy to yours, and GRINDING hard…. My buttocks clenched…. My left leg sliding up outside your right, and curling over your hip, my foot weaving it’s way between your thick upper thighs, parting them slightly…

I keep moaning to the echo of the word that left your lips for few moments….. My upper body tensing… Then…. instead of pushing you away…

Instead of trying to turn us…. I push my arms outwards even more… Stretching your own arms in the process and causing your torso to get TUGGED into mine again, breasts mashing and smothering one another… Nipples driling into the other’s aerolas…. And our pussies to grinddddd tighter……

And like a Cobra striking, my head snaps forwards, my mouth gaping, with my teeth snapping at your chin…. My upper teeth catching your lower lips, wedging into them, and pinning them against your gum, while my lower teeth latch to the underside of your chin, biting and tilting your head upwards, with your gaped mouth, forcing the shower water to drizzle down straight into your throat…


Like the steam that surrounds us, the moment lingers. Floating there in and around us. My body pressed to yours in the heat and in our exhaustion. My breasts and yours flattened together as our nipples find chances to clash and bend for each other. Each steel-hard pair one of a million tiny conversations we have with each other in the silence we cannot fill.

You leaning forward and into me, if I dare pull back.

Me letting my lips delve so very close and so very far, stealing soft gentle, half-formed kisses from you to stave off my own desire to love you and you me.

Your teeth catching on those daring lips, not harshly but on instinct alone.

We are each, as we press body to body, no more than slaves to it. Even with all your prowess as a domme and mine as an obedient devotee, we are trapped.

Mesmerized by each other.

Drunk on the lusts that course through us.

And though at this moment I feel as if I could not sink further or deeper into this morass of catfighting passion, you ask me to repeat it. To call you a bitch once more.

And though I can barely breathe in our closeness — barely think in our contact, I say it and you quiver. Quiver and then thrust. Pressing your spent sex into mine in slow, grinding swishes. Inviting me to press back, as with every meeting our breaths hitch and lips let go of whimpers.

The contact is no longer a challenge or a battle. It is a tax. A consequence of our bodies’ demands. Demands that we give into without intention or thought.

God I want you. This. To fight you now just now, but forever. I don’t ever want this moment between us to end. And though I think such thoughts of permanence, I feel you push me away.

Terror grips me for a moment, though it ebbs when you pull me back. Smacking our bodies together in a loud wet plop. One that echoes through the shower as blissfully healing streams of water land on us from above and around.

Heal though the water does, and thrust though we do, we are still engaged. Still battling. Our hands interlocked as we press together. And as we do, you lean in and bite me. Your teeth digging into my chin and lower lip.

At the contact I groan out in pain, my head tilting back like a pez dispenser. The water raining down upon us entering my mouth and rolling down my throat.

And though part of me wants to collapse to the shower floor, or roll us and just let you devour me. I lean back in, even as your teeth drag across my moving chin, and then bite you back.

My jaw clamping down on your upper lip and nose, as I match your force and fury. Our hips still pumping slowly, as legs intertwine and thighs move in and then out.

Locked together in such a way, biting each other’s faces like the animals we have become, I feel your fingers lax and when they do I pull mine free. Not to attack you wildly, as I may have before, but to lace them deep in your hair and hold you. Our bites, harsh though they are becoming almost a hateful kiss. One we share in our unending war.

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I bite. I bite not to conquer…. Not to punish… Not to ruin…. But to revitalize….. I bite you, because I don’t want you to think that I want this to be over…. That I’m going to stop so long there is a breath in my body, and blood pumping through my veins….

The cleansing waters pouring on us, washing us clean. Cleaning off the red smudges, washing away the sweat, and causing our hair to stick and rope to our cheeks and necks… While I cling on to you. Feeling you pushing into me, and almost with a grin through the bite, I wiggle my left heel between your curvy latina thighs, twisting it like a screwdriver, gesturing for you to spread your legs move, and you obey….

Then… you answer my invitation by an invasion… You answer my plea with Heaven’s gaping doors…. You answer my lust for you, with everything of you… Sex…. Nipples, and teeth… You snap your teeth down on mine… capturing my upper lip and chewing on it hard.

I grimace and roar, looking at you with the gaze of a bride about to scream ‘YES’ on the altar…. You seal our unholy union by a kiss of venom, by a caress of the devil, by a crown of thorns….. I groan, biting you harder… And you do me….

Our bodies never ceasing to gyrate. To grind. To struggle….. Not to move… Not to overpower one another… I’m content with where I am, so long it’s against you…. And you are not seeking any further dominance…

In fact, you relax your fingers, and I do mine, our arms moving around the other, grabbing the heavy hair in two giant grips. Holding to each other. Grimacing, thrusting, rubbing….

The constant grind lasting, then, I relax it and pull back, coiling my lower back, like a tensed bow, I thrust forwards, smacking my sex into yours….. You shudder…. And I roll mine back, firing again…. And again…. Your bite relaxing…. And I immediately soften mine… With each thrust of my pelvis, our bites slowly transform to nibbling… The nibbling into suckling.. The suckling into a caress of split lips…. And the caress into a deep passionate kiss…..

Moaning… I suckle on your bottom lip, and you on my top one…. Like two baby vamps nursing off the the other’s life essence… I want your blood… in me…. I don’t know why… But.. I want it… I want you inside me…. I want our DNA to mix… our souls to become one…..
I moan and thrust again… Harder…. Harder… HARDER…. My hands shifting into your hair, grinding my knuclkles into your scalp… Breaking the kiss only to whisper… One… Word… At… A… Time….. Softly spoken, barely heard under the battering shower heads….. “Give….” “Me…..” “Your…..” Cum…..”

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I grip your hair to keep you. To claim you. To … to … bite you, or is it even that? I question myself as our teeth cling to each other’s lips and faces.

We are fighting. I tell myself as with every passing second our clamping jaws lessen in force.

We are hurting each other. I assure myself, as those same jaws move not to bite but to nibble.

I am doing as you told me. I try and convince myself as teeth pull away, and we each begin to such on each other’s lips.

There has to be pain, or I have failed you. Must be screaming, or I am worthless. I tell myself, as our sucking turns to kissing. Both intense and incredible.

Our tongues seeking for one another in the warmth of our connected mouths. They wrapping and coiling around each other. Lavishing each other and lashing against each other as we continue to lean into each other and thrust with our hips.

I have to pull away — I have to resist. But I want you and this so badly that I want to cry at even the thought of having it. And as the first tear of such joy ruins my mascara even further, rolling down my cheek and onto yours, I feel dizzy. I feel weak.

And though I wish to fight through it, and maintain. When I hear you speak. Not in one, perfectly aligned sentence but in slowly delivered and broken bits. Demanding I cum for you. I suddenly, and without warning collapse back. Using my grip on your hair and body to slowly myself as I fall, though in the process I pull you with me.

In your recuperating strength you try to catch me — to stop me, but it is too late. And so I do fall, splashing down on the shower floor, just as you fall to your knees and then to your stomach. Your hands landing on the shower floor, they extending just far enough to keep your face from crashing into my shaved mound.

Unhurt though I am by my tumble, as you lay there between my spread thighs, I cannot resist the urge to lift my legs and drape them over your shoulders. Then, as the shower water rains down atop my tummy and your back, I lean up and look into your eyes. “Take it from me, mistress…. Make me cum for you…. Even the score”

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Control ebbs and flows…. And it’s not… It’s not granted.. It’s taken… It’s wrestled… But force… By guile… By trickery… By doing exactly what the other desires and craves… Pleasure and cum flows, and the upper hand swings…. But there is nothing more delightful as I begin to wrap my webs around you again, and feel your body losing it’s decorum and focus….

The bites turning to kisses, and the slap of our breasts echoing, splashing water against our necks with every time your body wavers and I pull it back with my left thigh coiled around your waist, into a belly smack or a pelvic thrust…..

You are wavering, and I love it… I love the sensation of climbing out of this pit…. The one that you dug and tossed me in… The one that you stood at it’s edge, kicking the dirt in to bury me under….. Gloating… Taunting… Mocking….. Treating me unlike anyone I know… treating me like a WOMAN… not a Goddess… Wondering me… Stealing my orgasms from me against my will…

And now….. I have so much to do to you, if I hope to pay you back…. Your body begins to sag, to deadweight… My left leg slides down, foot slapping on the wet tiles… You slip and I hold on to you… But you drag me down with your weight… I push with my legs…. You’re heavier than me, but I’m stronger than my frame… But the wet tiles betray me, and I can’t save you, nor myself.. You fall to the tiles and I slap down, on hands on knees… The water beating down on us… And my first reaction is not to check my aching left knee….

But to glance up to look at your face, fearing to see a puddle of blood under your head… But I sigh in relief as I stare at your beautiful face…. Cut, bruised, bloodied…. Wrapping your thighs around my head, telling me to take you… Taunting me again, by evening the score…. I purr, and THRUST up.. Pushing with my shoulders on your thighs…. Dropping my face down, and letting my tongue slip out and licckkk across your sex…


The first moment I touch it….. And it tastes.. divine.. My eyes narrow and I tongue to push, bending your legs back, pushing until you’re folded over like a matchbook….. Your toes touching the floor over your shoulders…. My thighs crossed over your hamstrings… And my hands reaching to grab your wrists and pin them down… I stare at you and purr; “Don’t…. presume… to give me… charity…. I’ll take what I want whether you want to, or not….” My voice purring, dreadful….

Then leaning down, I purr, inches from your face…. “I always take what’s… MINE….” And sticking my tongue up, I liccckk across your clawed cheek up to your temple…. My legs bending over, my knees pinned and anchoring me to the tiles…. My hands pushing on your wrists… But my feet, slide up… brushing across your buttocks, moving in, shifting my feet, like they are a second set of hands, I press my big toes to your sex….

One above the other, and I.. THRUST… Driving them inside of you…. Then slowly, I pull ONE out with a soft POP…And as I insert it back, I PULL the other toe out with a similar POP….. Alternating… Slowly… Toe fucking you…. While holding your body down….. Showing you… How a Goddess… TAKES…. and how she GIVES…

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From the moment our struggle began, we had each changed.

You sinking into the role you had wanted for so long but for as much time been denied. The role of an equal. A rival. A competitor with another for dominance.

And I fighting you and hurting you — fucking you and frustrating you, until finally I had earned not only your respect, but desire.

A desire into which we sank together, deeper and deeper. Into weakness and wanting in equal parts. Part which led me to collapse back and away from you. From our long, lingering, body to body press to the floor of your shower.

In that fall and to that floor I pulled you. Not atop me, but between legs I opened for you. And believing you were there with me. Driven past the point of pride and competition, and into a lustful break from both.

But I was a fool. For you, the Mistress of Milan must fight for it. Must battle for it.

And so, driven by that need to earn every inch and take by force every mile, you, after a single lick at the Tootsie Pop, scramble atop me.

Bending me over in two, and then using your thighs to pin me down to the wet shower floor. But you are not done, and still intend on taking me up on my “offer”. You, leaning in and over me so deep, that you begin to teeter, so that you can bring your feet to bear.

You entering me with one big toe and then the other. Fucking me with your feet — with your toes. And though I find such entrances to draw yelps of pleasure from my lips and waves of the same to wash through me with them, I glare up at you.

I wanted your tongue. I wanted you to take it. What I offered. To lick me until I came so that my essence and my juices stained not only your lips but coated your tongue.
All as my inner thighs pressed against your cheeks as my legs quaked about you.

But even after all every inch of hell we have drug each other through you demand I fight you. That you we struggle for every second of control we have. And so I rage. Rage against you and beneath you. Trying to press my hands up off the shower floor and up into the air and to free them from your grasp. But you hold tight, determined to fuck me. To humiliate me with your stabbing and invading toes.

“Grrrrr.” I growl as my pressing arms fail.

“AAarrrggghhh” I roar as my legs, which try desperately up into your own do the same.

But with each such rage-filled protest I see you and feel you sliding further and further forward. Your every thought centered on keeping not only me pinned and but the angle you need to reach my sex with your feet.

An equation I put together in one last attempt at resistance, one of shoving legs and arms. Limbs working in concert to shift you down further and further until your thighs slide down my legs and into the valley between my bent knees.

And though it hurts, and shows me so very clearly why I need to not skip yoga class, I have you. Your dripping wet kitten just above my mouth. A mouth I lean up to apply.

Apply and then use to catch your clit between my teeth. With it trapped there, I begin to lash it hard and then soft — quickly and then slowly. Wanting to drag from you the orgasm you refused to take from me.

And though I feel my lower back straining and legs almost snapping from the incredible unorthodox position, I hold on. Knowing you have two choices, once my teeth pull back so that I can focus entirely on pleasing you. One that you will stand and release me from this spider-monkey bend, or two that you will cum and I will force you to do the same.

All as I taste it. My mistress’ third orgasm.

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“Huuuuhhhffffff….. Phhhhhhhhhhffffffffffffffff….” I slowly huff and grunt… The shower still beating on my back….. On my hair… Water running down my wet tresses, trickling over the bridge of my nose, drippling on my bitten lips…. And I keep blowing and spitting them out with each strained breath.. Staring down at you….. At that… Look in your eyes…..

I’m… confused….. Why??? Why that angry, betrayed glare….. You spread your legs, you told me to eat you… To take the orgasm…. You told me you’re surrending one for me…

Did she change her mind???? It’s not in my nature to back down…… When the path gets narrower, I lose my backpack and squeeze through….. When the Savannah’s are thicker, I slash through my Machete…. And when you are thrusting up with your legs….

Trying to buck me off, I just double down… I lean forwards more… I keep my focus on my legs… On my toes….. On your pussy…. Giving it to you more.. What you asked me…. But… in the only way I know…. Taken…. Forced….

Why don’t I see the yelps and moans of pleasure?? I’m not even hurting you now… I’m not dripping hot candle wax on your belly… I’m not tugging on nipple and clit clamps…. I’m not even holding your hair…… I’m just…. giving you the christmas gift you asked, wrapped in my own gift paper…..

My mind clouded….. Still transfixed… Still trying to figure out the rules of this.. bizarre world of normality….. Where ‘lick my pussy’ just means… ‘lick my pussy’…. When ‘take it’ means ‘take it’….

No caveats… No tricks… No matchbook pins or toes, or 118lbs of weight pushing down on your legs folding your spine like we’re two contortionists from Cirrque Du Soleil….

But my tunnel vision…. My quest to tap the mines and extract your sweet essence…. It… blinds me to everything else… To the thrusts not being utterly useless…. I’m creeping up.. More.. And more….. And while I notice the displacement, I’m obsessed with adjusting my knees, my legs, my ankles to keep the toes where they are…. It’s only when I land into the grove of your knees, that I suddenly realize…

Something… is terribly wrong… And it’s signaled first by my toes slipping out of your sex, with one last POP before your head snaps up… And….. Silence…. utter and complete silence when your teeth snap at my clit…. You bite on it…. It’s not a chomp… But… a bite nonetheless….

A shake of your head… Your tongue lashes across…. And once more, I feel a sensation I exposed many to, but never felt it myself….. I’m the mad scientist you see in the movies, who torments hundreds with her mad contraptions, before getting trapped in one in the last minutes, for some sweet justice…

But… Where is.. the justice… here… I wince, whimper… Feeling your tongue lashing…. And a soft croak breaks the silence, a weak squeal as my lungs resume working, and I lose my grip on your arms… That shoot up, grabbing me and without delay, roll me to my back… The water splashes, and you keep the grip…. Moving with me like an extension of my body, and I begin to shake…

Your hands spreading my thighs…My hands go up into my hair, scratching my scalp…. Moaning… Thrusting and spasming in a strange emotional overdrive, and then….. like a lightning bolt crashing down …. Rocking my brain and turning it to mush…. To gray jello… Down my spine, vaporizing it, before setting a nuclear reaction in my sex, I explode…. I cum hard…. Feeling your teeth release and your mouth open, receiving the cum… The water pouring down on my face, my breasts, my nakedness…. My fingers going for your hair, instead of mine….

But I can’t close my fists… I can’t grab or tug.. I just feel you thrashing and licking… Lapping my cum….. My eyes begin to flutter…. I… I’m fading….. How… How did this happen?? No… No no.. I need to get up… I need…. to….. to what?? What.. Do I need now?? What do I want now?? And the answer is crystal in my mind…. I need to make you cum…… Not once… Not twice.. But three times….. I keep moaning, as you slowly sit up between my legs… Staring at me… Then you reach and grab my right ankle… And rise up…. My leg lifted in the air.. I see you smile staring at you… Hair sticking to your face and shoulders….. You smirk… And turn.. And begin to walk… Dragging me along the wet tiles… Across the bathroom……

Like a huntress dragging her kill…… I moan, feeling the softness of the tiles change to the dryer wood… Then a carpet….. My eyes seeing only the chandeliers and fixtures, as you drag me… For nearly a minute….. With just the one leg up in the air, your fingers clutching my ankle….. And I realize suddenly…. Where we’re heading….. My personal downstairs bedroom….


It is said that one is either teacher or student — instructor or instructed. And though our meeting in the center of your mansion’s sitting room began in that way, with every step forward we take, our roles alter and though they do not switch.

For though I am learning from you, how to want, how to fight, how hurt, and how to dominate, you too learn from me. At least as I see it.

You have always won. Always dominated. Always taken what you want with only a precursory need to fight for it. But then Enrico found me. Brought me. And set me before you as a woman with which to play.

And since then I have fought you. Struggled with you. Resisted you in every way that I can. And with every second I do, you are forced to learn how it feels to be less than in 100% control. How to be anything less than the dominatrix you have forged yourself into.

And as you learn to be less, I learn to be more — stronger, better, more forceful and dominant.
But in each endeavor we fail. My desire for you and the intimacy of closeness we shared in the shower overriding my focus on struggle, causing me to offer it to you. Not only my sex but softness. But weakness. Inviting you to take me.

And you, when confronted with such an opening, could not help but becoming once again the woman you have always been. The dominator. The controller. The woman to whom others bend.

In that mutual failure, we wrestle on your shower floor. You trying to toe-fuck me to orgasm, while pinning me down. And me trying to force you off of me with every bit of already-taxed strength I have left.

Though I cannot remove you, I can shift you. Down and closer — between my legs and atop my mouth. And when I have you there, I attack. Latching my upper lips onto your lower ones and devouring your delicare center.

Dragging my tongue across and up — down and against. Until you falter and weaken — fall and try to wrench yourself away from me. As you move I follow. Dropping down onto my stomach as you make it to your back.

Keeping my makeup-stained face deep between your thighs as I drive you to orgasm. Pushing you over the edge for the third time, though you have only done the same to me once.

And when you explode, I steal it from you. Your juices. Your taste. Your very soul, in liquid form. It is a flavor I become addicted to. Not after days or weeks — years or decades, but in an instant. Your pussy being my new favorite meal, and the sauce I pull from it my new favorite drink.
Moan though I do, as I extract every last drop from your kitten, I know I have work to do. While you are weak. While you are stunned. And so I leap from between your legs to my feat, reach for one of your legs, and then drag you.

To where? To somewhere. Anywhere with a bed. For I am too tired — too weary to fight on hard floors any longer. My every muscle stings from use, my lungs burn from both smothers and struggle, and my mind is fogged with the exhaustion of war.

Even in that state of expended effort I find one. A bedroom that would make mine, back in the States, look like a half-way house. Luxurious though it is, it will work for the end of our battle. It will play for the end of our engage.

And so into it I pull you, in your state of utter and yet temporary devastation. Only releasing your leg as we arrive. Reaching down, grabbing you by the hair, and pulling you up, as the heavy door shuts behind us.

“Get up, mistress!” I yell at you, my haze of sexual distraction having passed.

“I said I wanted you between my legs!!” I shout, as I pull you back to the bed, each of standing — though your version of it is more than wobbly.

“And that….” I say in part as I hop onto the red and gold comforter. My legs, which hang off the end of the bed, spreading as I push you down to your knees before me.

“Is where you’re going to be.” As the final word “be” escapes my lips, I once again raise my legs, and once more drape them over your shoulders. But rather than leave them there, gently inviting you to take me. I extend them, and in a blinding moment of force and fire, lock them at the ankles behind your head. Locking you into a blisteringly tight headscissor.


I feel the rug burns on my back… My shoulders blades…. But.. I don’t lift up…. I let my hair trail behind me… And my arms stretch upwards, doubling down…

It’s what I do…. I’m feeling the burn and pain, and I want it all…. I let the backs of my arms drag and feel the rough rubbing, while staring at the fixtures….

My breasts softly swaying on my chest… Hearing your labored breath…. I could.. get up…. Tackle you… Struggle….. I could stop the pain on my back side and even sit up or prop my arms…. But…. I want to indulge into this…

This sensation…..

You’ve earned it after all…

Here I lay down….. cum seeping still from my sex, leaving a smudged trail on the floors and rugs as you make your way down the hallways.. Dragging.. Stumbling……

I then suddenly… Purrr-Moan…. Yes… a purr… that is carried over a moan… One that makes you turn your head and stare at me, and… that smile… That smirk I have on my face….

You say nothing and keep dragging me… into the bedroom….. And finally drop my leg.. I just lay there.. arms up over my head…. Moaning, unlike that I had the three best orgasms in my life, but almost like that drag down the hallway was the fourth….

One that…. somehow, helped revitalize me….. While it strained you…. Dragging my body, which doesn’t weigh nothing… Has you panting…. You talk to me, bending over and picking me up by my hair… I don’t scream… I don’t hiss, I just slowly rise with your grip.. Staring at you.. As you lift me up… Then swing me off, sending me flopping to my back on the bed…..

You tell me that’s where you want me…. And you toss yourself on the bed, and pull me by the hair, demanding that you get what you wanted.. Your thick latina thighs slapping on my cheeks, clapping my ears, and you lock your ankles… Tugging me closer by the hair, wedging my face into your sex… I purr… And turn my eyes up to you… You can’t see anything but them… And the look of devious lust……. You’re panting… You’re domineering.. You’re… ME….

And right now…. I love seeing this… out of body experience… Of what ferocity looks like…. And yes… Yes.. Thank you Jennifer.. Now… I understand.. And now… I am learning how to ENJOY it…..

I purr and shift gently….. my knees spreading on the floor, my left hand shifting down, touching my own sex… It’s so raw, so tender… But I still gently rub and massage it… My tongue slipping out…. The tip tapping at the base of your sex… Then, I draw a squiggly line of saliva going up, licking across both folds, alternating between them…. I purr…

Your thighs tighten and you moan…. But whether it’s a reflex, or you’re expecting treason… It’s not going to happen…. My other hand, moving up, pushing up just between my chin and your sex, and I… DIP… two fingers into your sex… and at the same moment I dip TWO into mine….. Same speed, same force.. as I begin to slowly slide them in and out… while my other hands mirrors it…..

Moaning and hearing you moan… Letting even the sound waves leaving my moaning mouth echo across your sex…. The same frequency that the same action I’m applying to us both is causing….

My tongue being the variable here.. The wild card…. Lapping, licking… tapping… My lips gently wrapping around individual lips.. Suckling on them…. tickling them…. Finding your clit and tapping at it with my tongue, inviting it to the party…

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Cocoon to butterfly. Child to Woman. Lesser to Greater.

I am still Jennifer. Still the young woman that entered the doors to your mansion-home, unaware of the fate that awaited. Still a woman who wants nothing more than to be what you need and give what you want.

But our journey has taken me — taken us from one new plateau to another. From one moment of struggle to the next, and in each I find myself growing. Maturing. And learning, not just how to be, but what to be.

And though it does not dawn on me, with the image of a glowing lightbulb above my head, I am beginning to understand. Not what you said you wanted. Not what you ordered me to give you. But instead what you truly want. What you truly need.

Not a thrall. Not a slave. But your own version of you. Your own control. Your own dominatrix to give into.

Something made clear to me as you wilt between my legs.

Something seared into my soul as fact as the fire in your eyes fades, as my own rages.

Every bit of me was ready for it. Your claws digging into my thighs. Your teeth to clamp down on my inner thighs. For as those same thighs closed about your face, they did so cruelly. Painfully.

Each of my legs crushing down upon you as if to wrench your head from your shoulders and bend your neck in whatever direction I wished.

But instead of fighting me. Resisting me. You soften and lean. Pressing through the pressure of those thighs so that you could apply your mouth to my waiting wet sex.

God, I want it. To just let you please me. But I know my new calling. My new role.

“No!” I shout, as my hands reach for your hair and yank your face back harshly from my center. My legs thereafter opening, and then in a double shove, landing on both of your shoulders — pushing you away from me and to your back on the floor.

“I didn’t give you permission to taste me….” I begin, in a serious, steel-hard tone as I take a single, smooth stride off the bed.

“I didn’t give you permission to please me….” I continue, as I step towards you, and plant a foot between your fall-spread thighs.

“You have to earn that right. You have to beg me for it. Fight me for it. If there’s anything left in you, MISTRESS.” As my final word comes, loud and accusing — more a hiss than a phrasing, I lift my placed foot, bend my lesser toes in, and then insert my big toe into your sex.

“Or is that my title now…? And is this my room — my house….?” As I ask you, I begin to stroke my toe in and out. Never letting it pull from you. Keeping it placed, even as it drives in and then retracts. Drives in, and then retracts.

Each delving taken as I look down at you. My eyes filled with the confidence yours had when first we met.


My head gently shifts… Wades… Despite the pressure… The pain… The stickiness between the shells of my ears and your cream-soaked thighs…… I’m just purring, moaning, delighted and lapping.. Fingering… I’m making out with the first pussy that I’ve ever met… Ever had… That’s doing… this… to me… That’s made me want to please…. For the sake of pleasing….

Someone who has that fire….. That desire.. That fury and rage…… that are slowly diminishing within me, until it’s a tiny flicker… A dying candle…… The hazy cloud of anger…. The lust for pain… It has melted away.. Wittled… as right now… I feel the urge to just… pleasure you…..

For you have truly shown me enough….. And all i want.. Is to… reward you… To make you gush… straight into my mouth… To drizzle it on my sheets… And never wash them again…. To just sniffle and lick them when you’re not around, and when you are, to just spend more time soaking our essence into them…..

But…. Confusion is not monopolized by me…. I haven’t bought all the stocks and hogged all the erratic surprises and rude awakenings…

I hear your loud ‘NO!’ Shouted, and your arms jerking my head back, and I let out a sharp squeel; “AIIEEHH!” more in disappointment than pain, feeling your legs unwind from around me, the lovely slick warmth replaced by the cool air, before you kick me hard in the shoulders, sending me crashing back, laying down… Stunned only by the pondering of what went wrong there…….

You pounce off the bed and plant your left foot on my pussy.. I MOAANN… It’s still tender… From my own self-inflicted thumping and fingering…

I stare at you as you explain…. And my eyes go wide….. ‘earned h right’….. ‘your title…. your house’….. My chest swells… And that dying flicker of a candle inside me suddenly catches on a gas leak, turning into a giant fireball of fiery hell…..

My eyes go wide…. My arms… Slowly moving down… Grabbing your ankle on my pussy….. You grimace and PRESS further down.. Trying to crush me under your foot…. My elbows dig into the carpet… I half sit up… Glaring at you….

Sweat rolling down my chest… a small river moving to my belly button…. My fingers, interlace between your toes….. My other hand grabs your bitten achilles tendon, feeling a flinch… You might have forgotten it.. But I haven’t…. And I clench tightly, staring at you, I hiss… “You… stupid…. fucking…. little.. girl…. You…. almost had me…. You almost…. fucking had me… But I would… NEVER.. call YOU… Mistress….”

I hiss and TWIST your toes upwards and to the side with my hands, sinking my claws into your wounded Achilles…. And as you scream I pull your leg up, and swing my left leg outwards, trying to sweep your right leg from under you and send you crashing down, to your ass to the floor, and your shoulders, and possibly head to the wall…


I can feel it. Like venom injected and coursing through my veins.

Like it is a new drug, one designed just for me.

Control. Dominance. Not over anyone but over you. Over the woman I would have killed for. Would have died for, so strong was her — was YOUR spell.

Perhaps it is illusory or imaginary, and yet even this taste of it. Even assuming that I have it, is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. My pulse no longer racing but locking into a smooth, steady rhythm.

My mind ending it’s maddened search for what move to do next, or what defense I must raise, and settling into one goal — one focus. Keeping you in your place.

Keeping you obedient to my wishes and desires and none others.

I own you, in my mind. The queen atop the throne at which I will force you to worship.

For I am no longer Jennifer, but instead your hopes, your dreams, your future and your present. Oh, so very much your present.

Committed and certain of all those titles and truths, I look down at you. Fucking your pussy — a pussy that belongs to me, forever and always, with my left foot.

At first you comply and obey, but when I speak I see it. Your rebellion. Your resistance. An anger and rage in your eyes. And though once I would have cowered and caved to it. Dropped to my knees and begged you to forgive me, the dam that has broken cannot be sealed. The fire that has been lit cannot be extinguished.

And so as your temper rises, so does mine. My every intention being to dive atop you and beat you once more into complete and utter submission.

But before I act, you sit up and begin to yell. Swearing you will never call me mistress. Even as you say it, a mocking smirk takes to my lips before I laugh at you in the most dismissive of ways.

My transformation into equal complete. My growth from victim to villainess — slave to slaver successful in every way that word might mean.

And though I laugh and plan to break you, before I can, you grab for my toes and my tendon, and then swing your leg. Tripping me and sending me crashing back down. My brutally hard landing smashing both my ass into your floor and my head into your wall.

The former causing me to grunt and the latter to almost lose consciousness. Barely clinging to it, as lay to your side on my back. Unable to focus on my dominance or your submission — whose house I am in, or which of us properly holds the title of the Mistress of Milan


I boil over… The pot that was forgotten on the stove…. The one that stopped hissing and filling the kitchen with smoke… The one that was assumed ruined, emptied and burnt… Suddenly refills to the rim… With molten magma… Of furious lava bubbling up and spilling everywhere… Melting everything in it’s path…..

You… You’ve taken me to the limit.. You’ve given me everything I asked…

And now… You’re crossing the lines…. You’re….Going too damn far…..

I claw, pinch and twist… I hear your screams… Music to my ears… Nourishment to my parched throat…. Hemoglobin to my bled out veins…..

You twist and I swipe you off your legs, you crash down, hitting the floor hard, and the wall harder… I hear the dull THUNK and I scamper up to my left side.. Panting, staring at you.. Your eyes flickering… Your vision blurry…. I pounce up to all fours, and despite my pain and exhaustion, I rush to you, reaching up and catching your cheek before it hits the floor; “Oh no no no no no!!”

I moan out in a voice so gentle… So soft… I see your eyes turning, blinking.. And I cup both your cheeks, and I gently guide you to your side comfortably…… “You don’t go out like this, Jennifer….. I’m not done with you yet…” My voice soft, but the content of my words… Terrifying…. Psychopathic…

I see your eyes move, you heard it and realized… I’m not concerned for your safety… But… my pleasure… My fill of you…….. And I purr, as I hover over you, and softly push on your shoulders and head, rolling you to your back…..

I lean down and gently kiss your back… Every bruise.. every scratch.. Every nail bite and nick….. And I trail down slowly… Shifting and swirling….. Until… I end up against your round thick buttocks, and I give the right one a rough bite… Hearing you moan and flinch… Waking you up more…

“That’s right.. I purr, and slowly lift your left leg up, and I slide my left beneath it… Inching closer.. Almost in a tribbing position, except you are laying flat on your front before me….. I purr as I inch closer, until my pussy is jammed into yours……

My legs stretched forwards…. I lean, reaching with my arms and I weave them along the sides of your head, over your cheeks….. My fingers spreading, pressing my palm on your mouth again, pinching your nostrils shut, my other hand fortifying it…. Another hand smother…

This one… From behind… And I slowly lean back.. Lifting your tits off the carpet….. Arching your back… Your body is that of a bow ready to be fired… And mine, is the tension string….. I begin to gyrate… To GRIND… to FUCK you slow and hard… Purring and moaning, as I fill my ears with your soft, muffled moans..


I am confident, even as I fall. Certain of my own sexual and physical power, perhaps for the first time in my life, though your sweep lands and knocks me down.

My every thought consumed with what I will do when I recover. Not in how I will move, but what I will do to you. How I will drive my claws into your flesh and drag. How I will wrap my fingers around your throat and squeeze. How I will rip your every strand of hair from its root, until you beg me to stop.

Until you admit that I am not only your mistress but your goddess. Not just your better but your master.

That is until the back of my head slams against the wall and steals from me everything, but one lingering shred of consciousness. One I cling to without vision or hearing — taste or smell.

For I am alone in the darkness. Lost in the void. Not unconscious, but broken. Not felled but failing.

Until you come for me. My resurgent host. Speaking softly, though I cannot make out what you say. Gently touching and caressing me, though I can tell not where.

With each sound and contact I begin to wake — begin to stir. Able to do naught but sense again. Feel again. My eyes fluttering open, though they are fogged with unshed tears.

Recovering though I am, I remain powerless to stop you as you roll me onto my stomach, and then slide between my thighs. Bringing your raw sex to bear against mine. Connecting us, in the most intimate of ways.

Aligned though we are, you assert your control further, by reaching and wrapping your hand around my mouth and nose once again. Smothering me, as you did before, finding and fusing your clit with mine, as I try to shake off the depths of my devastation.

Then you begin to thrust, and with each such movement, you drag me from the depths of oblivion. Causing me to moan, before I can even speak. Whimper, before I can rebel. Cry out in pleasure, before I can do the same in anger. But each sound is muffled by your pressing palm. Causing them each to come out muffled and half-silenced, a symphony of my own suppression.

An orchestration of my own oppression.

Such as they are and such as I suffer, I find myself already lifting myself onto all-fours and thrusting myself back into you.

Not as a challenge or counter, but as a sign. That I want it. That I need it. Your sex dragging and thrusting into mine. An orgasm torn from me, even though our wills might be at odds.

My body, at that moment giving you the submission that my mind would deny. My desire to cum breaking my will to be your mistress.

Something you feel and sense as with every second my muffled-cries and silenced-screams grow louder and louder. Each coming more quickly and lasting longer, though they drain my lungs of those breaths I have left.

An asphyxiation that intensifies the sensations you bring me and speeds my sprint towards orgasm. An orgasm you drive me to without mercy, never stopping. Never slowing. Fucking me like your bitch, riding me like your horse, until finally, my entire body shudders and then collapses.

My face leaning into your palm, until somehow, in my convulsing and your glorious riding, I find the right angle to catch one of your fingers between my lips. And when I have it, I suck. As if it were your cock, and I your slut. My mouth milking it, as my orgasm rages. It being the only way I can repay the pleasure you bring me.

And though I will fight you, when I recover. And battle you, when I my time atop the plateau passes, for this moment I am yours and broken. Sucking on your finger as you drain me. Wrapping my tongue around it, as my juices stream from my pussy into yours.

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You’re… insatiable…. Unbelievable… You’re made of the fabric of my dreams.. and nightmares….. The rough dragging, grabbing, tossing, and rough handling, has undone the cleansing of the showers… Every scratch and bruise aches.. And every cut bleeds…..


But this time… Solemnly, quietly… Weeping to the queen of the night, as my body flexes, arching and thrusting into you… Fucking you…. Not the way you want… Not the way you demanded…. I tried that… And you acted like an imputent spoilt child… Kicking me off to the floor and standing over me……

So… Now.. You pay… now….. I reach into your depths, and unscramble the scrambled…. I undo my work…. I re-arrange you, from that fierce beast that I’ve turned you into; back to the whimpy, aching, pained slut that you need and deserve to be……. One thrust at a time… And I see my seeds blossom…..

If only gardening was that easy… I arch my head back and MOAAAN loudly, arching you further…. And I hear the SLAP of one of your palms to the ground….

Then… SLAP… Omg… Settle down, you divine beast!!! I grimace and pinch your lips and nostrils further… TUGGING and ARCHING…

And in a groan, I arch more and you push up on all fours… You’re thick meaty thighs spreading…. And you start thumping down on mine…. Grinding as much as I am thrusting…. Meeting every lift with a crash…. Every twist with a twerk….. Every grind with a flick….

And my head arches back…. I moan, and intensify the thrusts…… I….. Will… NOT…. falter…. I growl and groan… Spreading my legs more and I stretch them… I press my heels on the backs of your palms and GRIND down… Pushing your hands into the grounds further, and using the leverage to send pulses of pressure through your knuckles and bones, that accentuate every beat of this erotic dance…..

Like deep bass traveling through your bones to my carnal melody….. You GROAN and start to gush….. Flood gates opening and your honey seeping down, thick, warm, like a river of molten love…

You slump and turn your head.. You take my finger and begin to grind lick and suckle on it… And I ease my hand just a little… To allow it entry into you, while still limiting your breathing… I purr and move up…

Without breaking my smother… Like a snake, I coil my legs under you and slowly slither up… Spreading my body along your back…. In a warm, gently motion….. My breast mushroomed against your skin, and my cum soaked crotch jamming into the gap between your sexy cheeks….

I purr and grind softly…. Rolling my hips, as you suckle on my fingers… I turn my head and begin to suckle on your neck…. Purring… Moaning and nibbling on the muscle connecting it to your right shoulder…..My body gently lifting, and signaling you to rise, until we are both sat up on our knees… My legs spread outside yours… Your rear still gyrating against my sex, licking and suckling on fingers and necks… I nudge you again, like a loyal steed, and we rise to our feet… Walking to the bed…..

And with a thrust of my hips I send you forwards, falling into the mattress and bouncing up…. Holding your legs I turn you over, to face me… And with my hands caressing your curvy calves, I turn my head, starting to kiss, to suckle, to lick, dragging my tongue gently along the inside of your sweat and cum trails running down the insides of your legs, moving a few inches along one, then turning and shifting to the other leg…

All the while, my chestnut hair cascades down, slowly coiling over your pulsing, sputtering mound, signaling the final destination of my lips….

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Moments ago it was never. Seconds, bunched in handfuls, before it was impossible to even conceive it. Giving in to you again. Accepting your sexual attention or control. I was your equal, no…. Your better!

But on the floor you fuck me. Like your bitch. Like your submissive and happy-to-be-there lover. Thrusting myself back into you as if your sex pressed into mine is the only thing I want in the universe.

Aiding you, as you drive me forward and to orgasm. It is unbelievable. Inconceivable!

And yet it happens. And yet I, at least for that moment, am yours once again.

But your domination does not end as you drain me of another orgasm, bringing our score from 3 to 1, to 3 to 2. No, for after your cunt has beaten mine. And after your clit has broken mine.

You, with sheer will and sexual prowess alone, pull me to my knees. Using your body and confidence to control me, just as a flute player might a cobra.

I should turn and attack you! I should fire my head back and break your nose! Not because I hate you , but because I now love controlling you more than all else.

But instead, I continue as your drone. Rising past my knees to my feet, as you guide me effortlessly to your bed. Using your hips thudding into mine to send me flying onto its softness once again.

There, my mind and soul loiter in their decision to abide, flaring not as you touch me. Rebelling not for a second when you flip me.

And for a moment, a single horrifying moment I let the thought enter my mind. Was my moment of assumed control an illusion?

Was that brief moment of my presumed ascension nothing more than a fantasy of mind let loose in folly?

No! I shout without sound, my mind demanding I act.

“Nooo….” I mutter weakly, as you kiss your way slowly up my legs, and calves.

“Noooooo…. I am…. Ungh …. your mistress….” I whisper and whimper, as your lips step slowly up my essence-wet inner thighs.

“Obey me….” I demand, though it comes like a plea. A desperate, pathetic, unheeded plea. One that escape my lips as my eyes close and I bite my lip. Knowing what you are about to do, and shivering in excitement at the prospect.

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“Noooooo…” The moans fills my ears, and my lazily shut eyes, lost in euphoric bliss, suckling on your quivering, trembling, spasming legs widen just a little, a brow cocked up in a little playful ‘huh’?

I stare at you, as you hallucinate…. Ramble on like a patient put under anesthesia pre-op….. Spilling her heart out, gushing to the nurses and doctors….

Oh, the embarrassing things we do in such a state…. I remember how horrified I was when my doctor told me I was trying to pull his pants down, telling him I want his cock in my mouth during my wisdom teeth extraction (true story!)…..

How they had to restrain me, and when I was wishing the Earth would split and swallow me, he just said it was so normal to hear, people say worse things… But…. it’s always true… Everyone says what’s in their hearts… And I wanted to suck his cock… But I didn’t… Sore teeth and all, so I just fucked his brains out, after having a smoothie for dinner…

But you…. You rambling about wanting to be my mistress… Wanting to conquer me.. Is that what is in your heart of hearts?? Is that what Jennifer vies for??? A self discovery in the few hours journey we have been going at each other tonight…. Through the bedroom windows I can see the pitch black sky turning slightly brighter….

The sun is rising… Have we truly been battering, clawing, biting, battling, fucking, and pleasuring each other all night….. The realisation makes me slump lower…. My right knee pushing into the edge of the bed… My left toes curling, digging into the carpet…..

“Mmmmm yesss… yess yess yesssss!!!” I purr between suckling the dried cum and sweat off your svelte marble thighs….. My cheek brushing against your sex, I turn my head and push your legs open, forcing them wide, and finding delight in feeling no resistance, you’re as limber as a ballerina, your knees touching the sheets and I press them in, moaning; “Mistresses… Do not…. ask… for… obedience….”

I purr, my hazel-green eyes glancing up at you dark sulken, drunken orbs…… My chin gently massaging your labia….

“Mistresses…. get… obedience… by just…. being…” I purr, and turn my head, and thrust my tongue into your slit… I could bite… I could torment.. I could ruin… I could pay you back for every moment of disobedience…

But… why…..

You never did..

You gave me what I wanted..

What I asked for….

And right now…. I will give you what you desire in your heart of hearts, me… All of me…. Darting my tongue inside you like a little malleable cock, flicking around, lashing and lapping at your G-spots..

My head bobbling slightly, aiming the tip of my nose at your clicks, like a woodpecker hammering at a sappy trunk…… Moaning in delight….

In adoration…

In lust…..

I’ve found her…. I’ve found my other half…. The one who completes me….. The white to my black…. And the black to my white…. The yang to my yin…

Jennifer, to me, Ewa……

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I curse at myself as I squirm before you. Shifting my hips and cheeks a half-inch to the right, then a half of that to the left. My legs, flexing and tensing as your hair, lips, and tongue, brush against them.

I wish I could say that if only I were free from your touch that I would become what I was, for that glorious minute.

To say with conviction that if I only had a chance, I would rebound from the pits of sexual desire I have sunken into.

But I know both to be untrue. For every time you pull back in the slightest, or pause your attention for even a moment, I whimper and bridge. Not just offering my sex to you, but in action, begging you to return.

Begging as my hands move not to your hair to yank, or your eyes to gouge, but to my own thighs softly. They remaining there without advancing, as my own submissive nature begins to return.

You have not given me permission to touch you. Not asked for my hands to sense and feel your flesh once more. And though they hold, waiting, my fingers spread — betraying what I want. You to clasp our fingers as you ravish me. You to interlock our digits as you even the score.

And though without words I ask for such contact, I cannot look at you and gaze upon your beauty. As I still battle — still struggle with my warring mind and disparate intentions.

To fight you for control, and yet to become yours fully and completely.

To master you and break you, but in opposite, to pull your arms around me and exist as your chosen.

What am I? What are you? What have I become? And what did you mean me to be?

I do not know! I cannot decide! I am lost as I lay on your bed. Rudderless, as you slowly, delicately, feed on me.

Draining my resistance as you play and pleasure my battered clit with your warm and expert mouth.

A mouth that teases me about my failings to control you. A mouth I want to silence, even as it pleases me.

Resist Jennifer! Fight back! Or accept it…. This placement and subjugation. Your new mistress’ tongue and lash, though at the moment they are one in the same.

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Why are you different?? How?? I keep asking myself, as i kiss and suckle….. Many were in that position…. And all were subjected to methodical, cruel, abusive touch… Whether it was with fire and iron; tooth and claw; or even withdrawing my touch entirely, to torment and make them moan… So why am I unable to pull away…

Why am I helpless against my own desires to never let my lips leave your skin…. To never stop digging my tongue into your depths, wishing I could drill it so deep, to discover places no one ever has been…..

Why are my nostrils fluttering as I grind into your clit, to inhale every melody of pheromones and honey radiating from your Goddess’ Nest…..

I have no answers… I have no retorts….. I do not know why…. But I know that for the first time in my life, I can… FEEL…. my prey….

Nay… You are no prey…. You are…. a trophy from the Gods….. Sent to put me back in a place I had long forgotten… To feel emotion that I no longer thought existed…. Care… Connection….. I can feel every tremble… Every vibration…

I can sense every thought in your head… All transferred and communicated with the tone of every moan, gasp… With the reach of your arms that extend towards me… Fingers spread… Not sinking in hair or digging into cheeks…. Just reaching….

With your pleads reaching a teary tone of utter need…. A need that immediately becomes my own… As I reach up with my arms…. Sliding my fingers between yours.. I feel yours clench tight around mine like mouse traps… And I slowly close mine… I don’t struggle or fight you…

I… understand… your straits….. You’re drowning, and I will be your lifesaver……. The tether to stop you from falling down the abyss… My fingers softly wrap around your fingers…. Even as your nails bite into mine… A gentle touch, to assure you, of your place in my domain….

The Rosetta stone that deciphered my entire world and needs…. One that will be treated with the proper care….. Whether it’s a whip, a slap, a gouge, a wound; or a silken tether, and a wet lip to suckle on yours…… You complete me…. And with our arms interlinked, I push my left leg tightly into the floor, stretching.. Pushing my head deeper into your loins… Licking and suckling…. Moaning and announcing my acceptance to your coming gift….


There on your gorgeous bed I lay, eyes closed, and legs beginning to quiver. In part I want to resist. In half I need to escape. But such slivers of my chart shrink with every second, and diminish with every slash of your tongue.

Before this day, we were strangers. Before this engagement we were apart. From even as you drain me of my will to fight back, I swear. I oath.

I will never be apart from you again.

For my whole life before you was empty. My every interaction meaningless to the point of being obscene.

“Uunnngggghhh!!! SSHHIIIIITTTTT!” I cry out as I press my body hard into your comforter.

And though I curse. And though within me pleasure swells, I do not buck or boil — roll or roil. No, instead my actions are delicate, in that had someone been watching they would fail to notice them.

My fingers tightening around yours, as the tips of my flesh-dulled nails dig into the back off your hands. My thighs pressing in on your cheeks and spasming thereupon.

Spasms you feel as my calves lift, cross, and then lock softly at the ankle as they balance on heels that rest on your upper back.

“Don’t stop….” I plead with drying lips.

“Please…. Mistr….” I plead in part, before I silence myself, only half aware of the meaning of the name I almost called you. A namer interrupted by nothing other than an orgasm ripping through me. One that causes me to scream. “OH GOD! OH GOOOOOOoooOoOoOoOooDddDDd!!! YYEEEeEEEEeeeEEEEsSSS!” Just before my once resting and respectful legs seize and with a purely instinctual force, close about you. Driving your face as deep as it can go, sealing my lips with yours.

3-3. We are finally tied.

3-3. The claimer and the claimed.

And though those are the scores, as I scream and shake — buck and drive grind my sex against your beautiful face, I can not examine them. Every thought being on my pleasure. My perfect orgasm. And you — the woman who brought it to me.

Brought it to me and left me withered and broken on your bed. Writhing gently from side to side as my legs release and you are set free.


My palms remain flat, half clawed, letting you grab, squeeze and empty your frustration and passion through them. Each point of your nails sinking into my flesh, not considered an attack; no…. It’s a little token of intensity, that I am so lost into.

The mattress shifting, my heavy bed holding steady like a rock, while the white sheets are slowly getting smeared, littered by gray sweat spots and tiny blotches of red from the cuts….

Oh my beloved; won’t we just writhe and grind on these sheets until we turn it into a crimson Jackson Pollock piece of raw carnal artistry…..

My lips curl up in a Cheshire smile……. Feeling your orgasm receding…. Like a warm tide at a summer’s night drawing itself back to the dark depths it came from; with the blood moon’s grip on it faltering….. I tilt my head up a little, resting my chin on your pulsating, still gushing sex, looking at your face….

“Mmmmmmm…. Say it again….” I purr, and slowly tilt my head, kissing your clit…… But I feel your arms tensing, squeezing mine harder….. “Say it… again…” I repeat, in an even softer voice… Turning my head down, and slowly kissing a bit higher…..

“Say it… You want to….” My voice soft, creeping into your mind like a jaded mist…. My toes pushing into the sheets and floor, climbing up.. Slithering like a dancing snake out of a basket, shimmying and twisting to the melody of your soft moans and breaks, and the gentle pops of every kiss….

I taste your sweat, your flesh, your blood… My lips brushing and gently suckling at every bit of Jennifer I find… Every mark and scar and bruise….. I take a little pause, to pay tribute to both nipples standing attention atop your pillowy hills…… And let my tongue drag down in the valley in between, lapping more of your essence….

“Say it….” I whisper, as I slowly settle on top, my legs spread, knees dimpling the canvas, while my nipples and yours do the same to the other’s breasts…..

My lips softly brushing yours…. “…. That’s okay….” I whisper… “You can say it straight in my mouth…” And I lean down, pressing my lips to yours, kissing you passionate, moaning, my hands slowly pushing yours down to the sheets…

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I have wrecked myself at the gym. Pressed myself to work harder, stay later, lift heavier, and run longer, until the very moment I can barely stand without collapsing. But that sensation of fatigue is nothing compared to this.

A single grain of sand held up against the entire Sahara desert.

For in our struggle, I have taxed my mental energy, spent my emotional reserves, and exhausted my every ounce of physical strength.

And in that state of utter expenditure, you come for me. Crawling onto the bed, and atop me, kissing your way north. And as you come, I do nothing.

Nothing but lay. Nothing but watch, with opening eyes, as your body glides up mine.

What are we? Who are we? Those are the questions I should ask, and once I have asked them, fight to give those queries answers. BUt instead I remain.

Letting you come onto the bed, and then align our bodies after your journey. All as you repeat. All as you demand.

“Say it….” You want me to finish what I began. To say what I had halted. Mistress.

A request you make, one final time as you lean down and press your lips to mine in a gentle, sensual kiss.

I should rebel in an instant! But instead into our kiss I sink and melt. Letting loose the smallest, cutest moans into your lips.

But still I do not say it. Still I refuse to call you the name you demand. And when you finally go to press once more, stiffening only slightly, as you try to pull back from our kiss, I plant my feet into the bed and bridge.

Pressing my body into yours. My breasts into yours. And our soaked mounds into yours as I try to roll us. My nails digging in harshly once more, so that I can better control you.

And though we roll, we do not simply switch from my back to yours, but instead there and back again. There and back again. Together the two of us careening from one end of the massive bed to the other.

Not attacking each other like wildcats, as we once had, but instead softly clinging to each other. Our only battle one of moisture-glued bodies pressing and pushing together. Our foreheads sealed together, as our passion-filled eyes bore into each other.

Not in a glare or a gaze, but something else. A look of intensity that we share as our lips meet in the madness and steal one tiny kiss after another from each other. Neither willing to give such dalliances up, even as we struggle for control and dominance one final time.
A remnant of warring prides that comes to an end, when finally I feel my body give out entirely. A sudden cessation of resistance that comes when you are on top of me.

For a moment, in the stillness we remain. Still studying each other’s souls through our fused and intensity-wet eyes. Your body pressing down into mine, whenever I give even the slightest hint of trying to overturn us once more. But finally, after 5 or 6 — 6 or 12 of such weak attempts and infinitesimally stronger refusals by you, I stop.

I stare.

And then I say it. “I am yours, mistress.”


I moan softly, melting into the kiss…. But… Your tongue is.. withdrawn….. your arms still tensed… Your nails push into the backs of my hands, and I begin to wince…. I open my eyes and see the defiance in yours….

“… stop…” I whisper… But you bridge up.. I grunt, and my body is rocked to the side….. I grit on my teeth and push down… But I don’t use my nails…

“… Stop!!” My words getting firmer… AS you begin to thrash… To struggle…. Rolling on the bed slowly… Your nails biting into my hands, I can feel the searing pain, the blood trickling from the skin, but I refuse to sink my nails into yours more….

I can hear your grunts…. You’re almost in shock…. Refusing to listen….. To obey… To understand that… it’s over…

“I said…. STOP!!” I grimace and exert all my strength, fighting hard until we come to a stop…. Your arms down to the sheets… My legs coiled around yours… Our pussies pressing… You glare at me…. Menace… Anger… Frustration….

But I just lean down, pressing my forehead to yours… “… Shhhhh… it’s alright…. It’s okie… Jennifer…..” I whisper your name, softly, lovingly… And I see you blinking… Snapping back into reality….

Your name acting like a spell that brought you back to who you are…. To what you are…… And your grips on me relax…. You whisper the words…. ‘I am yours, mistress’, and I smile…..

“Yes… You are… And I am… yours….. lover……” Whispering the last word I see your pretty brown eyes go wide in shock, but I don’t really stare… I shut mine, leaning down, kissing you.. And this time.. This time, your tongue is not lost to me…..

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