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”My neighbours don’t hear a thing as you plunge yourself into my body over and over again; between the ballgag and the way you’re holding my face into the mattress muffles all but my whines and moans accentuated by the occasional grunt. It hurts more than a little, less than a lot, but I’ve learned to ride out the pain along the path to bliss. You’ve stretched me out and probably rearranged my insides a little based on how my guts feel, but the pain is diminishing a little and slipping into the relative equivalent of pleasure. It never feels GREAT though . . .You won’t allow it. This is all about YOU, and my pleasure (if it occurs) is completely by accident. Face down, ass up, I drift away to another place but I can’t avoid the slapping sound of your body slamming into mine or the feeling of your swollen balls meeting mine with every push. And then . . . . . . the pay off. Lying there . . . gagged, handcuffed . . . feminized and emasculated . . . willingly taking another man’s cock. I’m so, so sorry.”“Oh, Robert,” my grandmother sighed. She shook her head and looked at me with what I took to be a pitying expression. “It doesn’t matter, dear. Don’t get all agitated.”She left the room and I heard her footsteps on the stairs as I collapsed into the seat behind me. I finished my drink without registering anything and placed the empty can on a side table. Then I sat there with my thoughts going round in circles.I didn’t have a clue how long I sat in that chair. It could have been five minutes, it might have been ten, hell, for all I knew it could have been half an hour, but however long it was I couldn’t get the thoughts of my transgression out of my mind. To say I was ashamed was putting it mildly; I had wild fantasies of leaving the country, maybe joining the French Foreign Legion, perhaps after a few years fighting someone else’s wars I could come home and face her.“Robert?” I heard my grandmother call. “Are you still downstairs?”Sighing heavily I rose and walked.
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