.“Look I don’t care if you go to jail or not…so you don’t have to answer my questions…I’ll just call the police right now.” I faked like...I was going to pick up the phone. >>> ...“No wait.” She shouted as her eyes snapped back to mine. “I scammed the wrong guy out of some cash, and now I have to pay him back or he is going to mess up my face….there …you happy?” >>> ...She looked sincere, and for a second, I think she even showed a hint of fear of what might happen to her if she didn’t come up. I pulled into the drive and looked down at her.“Yes.”She looked up at me, “Really?”“Yes.”She jumped out and ran into the house with a big smile. What have I done. I walked into the house and got a cup of coffee going. I leaned on the counter and sipped it. I watched the cars go by for a while then went to my room both afraid and excited. I could feel myself growing again. I stepped into my room and she was in my bed with the blankets around her chest all tucked in. I didn’t see bra strap.. “And don’t try pretending or faking it,” she said. “I’ll be popping in there to make sure your dick is in her.”I was sure there was more to this situation than met the eye. Crystal and I had been married for twelve years. She was very loving and kind, but she was also honest and truthful. Those were two qualities that were rare in a woman. Normally I wouldn’t expect any type of subterfuge, but there was too much riding on this.Crys was usually pretty jealous when it came to me and other women,. I give no explanations or justification for what mylife has become. My journals relate what was done to me over ten weeks of mytraining as a slave to Sir, my master. I was instructed to keep a hand writtenrecord of my training and to include the feelings and emotions that my ordealsaroused in me. I hated writing about what I was enduring at first but as theweeks passed my time with pen and paper became a solace to me. Recently, I decided to publish my journals. I am not a writer and when Iset.
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