He lifts the pen until it is eye level between them. He examines the juices still trailing and dripping from it. Without losing eye contact with Marissa, Mark slowly inserts the stylus in his open mouth. He softly closes his mouth around the pen and pulls it out slowly sucking her flavor. His eyes close as he savors her taste. He opens his eyes. "Yes, I'd say my snatch is ready for punishment." Mark attaches a leash to Marissa's dog collar and turns to lead her to the bedroom. He stops after a couple paces, and without turning to face her, he says, "Crawl pet." Marissa drops to all fours and proceeds to crawl behind Mark as he pulls the leash. A slow burn is again rising in her cheeks from embarrassment. This of course is the point isn't it? To put her back in her place as his submissive. She got the roles confused again and he needs to…….re-educate her. In the bedroom Mark orders Marissa on the bed. There is a large clean towel spread on top of the down comforter. She wonders what. Mine were another matter. Mine lasted a good long time unless I rubbed my peter and got it to shoot off. After about two or three times of doing that it would finally wilt a little.We went to school by either getting on the big yellow school bus that came around at about five in the morning, or by riding some of our stock horses, if the weather wasn't too bad. Christy and I preferred riding when we could, because we could go cross country, which saved us an hour bus ride in the morning and got us home an hour early so we could do chores before it got completely dark.I never thought of us as being lonely, or stand offish, or whatever. We didn't see people much, and when we did there wasn't much to talk about. I found out later that lots of people thought we were shy or something. Like the time in my senior year when my friend Bobby told me I should ask Melissa to the Harvest Dance.It was early September, and the weather was about as perfect as it can get in Montana. I'd never been on.
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