"Do you understand, Kristie? Tell me." I... eh, I understand, Mistress", she whispered almost inaudible."You understand what, Kristie?" I eh... I understand I have no choice if I want to stay yours, Mistress."Angique now took her shoulders. She turned the half naked girl around to face the Frenchman."If you want to be mine, Kristie, you have to go with this man. You must suck his glorious cock until he comes in your throat. Tell me that this is what you want to do for me."She felt the girl tremble through her clutching hands. The aftershocks of her misery slowly got less intense. She pulled the girl towards herself. She made her breasts press into the bare back. Then she put her mouth close to the left ear. She whispered: "Please, beg me to be mine, my sweetest love."Angique's hands sensed it before her ears heard the words. The change, the subtle sweet change when a girl surrenders. When both wills align. When at last a girl sees who she is. When destiny reveals itself."Please,. What’s his name again? Arnold? No, something else. Harold? No. Oh, who cares! He’s just a man anyway. They’re all alike. Why do they even need names? We should just give them numbers. Yeah, that would be… At that moment, the grip of his fingers tightened upon my forearm. Though nowhere near uncomfortable, the added pressure jolted my focus back to the stationary woman in front of me before I could run into her. With the procession at a stop, I dared twist my head to the left a bit, and my eyes with it. At once, I met my escort’s gaze, and his smile. Before I knew it, the ends of my own lips had curled upward, just a shade. Oliver! That’s his name. I steered my eyes away from him, but found them straining to snap right back. I can’t say there was something striking about him, if anything, it was just the opposite. The wedding party left the small church, pausing to pose for the photographer every few steps. All the while I felt my eyes pulled to my left, as if by gravity. In the.
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