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Marianne took a deep breath and asked."Am I going home, is the evening over?" Guy stopped and looked into her eyes. His question was unspoken and her reply was also unspoken."Coffee?" That would be nice." He nodded.His flat was very well furnished and although furnished as a single man would furnish was nonetheless not obviously a Bachelor pad. There were good modern landscapes on the wall and some vases of fresh flowers scented the air. The furniture was good solid English traditional and highly polished."Have a look around and I'll make some coffee." Marianne wandered around. She noticed a few framed photographs on a bureau and examined them. She recognised a young Guy and a young Sylvie with a couple who she suspected would be his mother and Sylvie's father. She was very pretty and he stood straight backed his military background obvious. Then there were other photographs one of an Army officer who had a lot of Guy about him. She guessed that it was Guy's father who was killed.. She could feel the pleasure mounting, building, an unstoppable pressure begging for release. The slender brunette clenched up her hands. Her eyes were squeezed shut, had been for some time. She focused on the white-hot sensation of pleasure building inexorably toward its pinnacle, hating herself for it and yet helpless to stop it. The naked, spread-eagled girl could only bite her lip so hard it nearly bled, trying to keep the moan from sneaking out, as this man controlled her body in the worst way imaginable. “Mmmm. You taste good, bitch. Your sweet nectar I could drink for a thousand years,” he said, and there was almost a poetic wistfulness in his tone. Oh god. Please no… no, this is wrong. Don’t come! Please don’t come! Ashley begged herself, as if trying to negotiate with her own body and the primal instincts hardwired into her DNA. But eventually it was inevitable. It was a losing battle. Mladic’s fingers were ramming into the girl’s cunt as he sucked and slurped madly on the.
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