She teased me like that for what felt like hours, although I’m sure I am exaggerating, her touch both sweet and cruel. She pulled my nipple between her lips, sucking at it until I moaned, the edge of her teeth just brushing my tender skin, slowly applying pressure until the pleasure became almost unbearable pain. Or, sometimes, it was the pleasure that was unbearable. Her hands were everywhere, caressing my breasts, stroking along my outstretched arms, tickling me, her laughter taunting as I squirmed uncontrollably. She kissed me, invading my mouth with her tongue, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling it until there were tears in my eyes. I loved every minute of it as she began to awake something inside of me that I never suspected existed. Not once did she stop and ask me if I was okay, if what she was doing was too much for me, if she was pushing me too far. I was her little fuck doll, after all, and it was a role I found myself accepting, even reveling in. “Remember what you. The beatings and berating got worse. Finally my friend from the job told me about a counseling session for women that was free and lasted eight weeks. The class met on Friday nights at an elementary school about fifteen minutes away. The meetings lasted about two hours and they’d helped her. I didn’t even know she’d ever had a problem. The counseling was devoted to women only and featured extensive help in understanding abuse and developing self worth. It was taught by a guy that seemed to really know what it was like and how to help. He was tall but not overly good looking and always seemed busy. He was devoted to his students and encouraged us to talk about our feelings. He even offered another night free every week. The classroom was donated by the city as part of an outreach program and except for expenses, he donated his time. My boyfriend didn’t know I was going and Sis watched the kids for me when I went. The meetings were on his big drinking nights each week and I had the car.
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