It didn’t take long before he grunted a couple of times and blew his wad down my throat. He released his hold on my hair, throwing me to the ground ...ithout saying a word and walked away. Instinctively I curled up to a seated fetal position, hugging my knees tightly to my chest and rocking. Part of me wanted to scream out in rage, frustration, agony. Another part wanted desperately to earn Master’s forgiveness at any price, to find myself back in his good graces. The two sides waged a silent war. Were you as well?" No, not my kind of music. Classical is more to my liking," I replied."Yuck!" She settled back in the chair. I kept an eye on her while I arranged my papers. I guessed she was about fourteen and developing nicely although wearing baggy jeans and a bulky sweater concealed most of her form. Her face held my attention for a short while. It was small and roundish, and she wore purple framed, oval spectacles, which made her look more mature than I felt she was. Her long brown hair. How in the Hell... ? What twisted, demented, cruel, BASTARD would do such a thing?What kind of a sick joke was this?Then I remembered what web site I was surfing, and had to accept the obvious truth. The second hairbrush really was my husband's hairbrush. The company was huge and sold stuff through "the lady down the street" all over the country, so it wasn't all that surprising.There really wasn't any magic cosmic convergence - no hidden conspiracy. It was just that our parents had each bought. ‘I’m the National Portfolio Manager for a property company’ she said. Her whole demeaner was one of superiority, her gaze hardly hiding her disdain and I got the impression that she was used to telling people what to do and would be extremely hard and demanding to work for. She told me to pour us a drink and rather resenting her tone and the way she told me rather than asking, I hesitated for some seconds before reluctantly pouring us a drink. For a minute or two nothing was said as sat back.
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