Star Of India

A strange antiseptic odour came from the wad and permeated the room. He froze in fear as he was grabbed by the man with the cords. As the man with the wad lifted his arm, the woman intervened with a wicked smile.“Wait, that stuff smells so foul; I want our sissy to have sweet dreams as she is taken away.” He struggled and trembled in fear as he was held secure by the big man. Both males chuckled as the dominant woman put her hand up her tight skirt and slipped her silken black panties down her formidable stocking clad thighs and calves. She deftly flipped the panties up to her hand from her sleek black stiletto and approached the sissy; a wet patch evident around the crutch. Though scared beyond belief, his erection stiffened as he was held firm by the burly man, and the smiling woman wrapped the black panties about his head, ensuring the soiled gusset was over his nose. His captors laughed as the woman stroked his stiff cock through the white silk, as he took in the rich. Lars Winter.Where shall I begin? How do you begin to tell a tale, that, as far as you can remember, has no real beginning? For me, there was no start to Sarah’s love to me. It always has been there. Lurking. Suffering. Hidden like a stain on a shirt, a stain you can’t seem to wash out, so one day you’re hiding it in the closet, and another day you cover it up with a shiny new jacket. But no matter what you do, it’s always there. Always has been. Always will be.I was about ten years old, when I really noticed it for the first time. I just had joined the athletics club of our school. Sarah was there. For every training. For every competition. Always cheering me on, always being supportive. Like she always has been. Always will be.It was the finale of my first competition. I was part of the runners team. Middle-distance, eight-hundred meters. We had trained for weeks, got in shape as much as we could, but the other team was good. Very good. Everyone was on the edge, nervous. Especially.
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