Mind bondage-4

“Yes,” I sighed. “I am my body.”

“What does that make you, Adele?” he asked.

I sighed again happily. Everything was starting to make sense. The ache in my cunt to be filled made perfect sense, because my body was a slut. And I was my body.

“I am a slut,” I said proudly. The words brought my hips up as I felt yet more pleasure encompass my being. It was right. He was right. I was a slut. My body needed to be fucked.

Hector undid the strap across my shoulders, leaving only my wrists and ankles restrained. He stepped between my legs and I craned my head up to look at what he was doing. I saw his penis, no, his cock, standing out from his pants, nearly touching me. He began to speak and while some part of me thought that I should look at his face as he spoke, most of me couldn’t contemplate looking away from his gorgeous cock. It was a light brown in color, at least 9 inches long, strainingly erect and ready to fuck a slut. A slut like me. I could feel myself get wetter and wetter as my body began to beg for penetration.