You make another desperate attempt to get your fingers onto your clit, but again I grab your hand and force it away. "Soon, girl - you are doing well,...but don't get carried away when your lesson is so nearly learned," I whisper. This time, when I remove your rods, you're taken by surprise when I don't replace the one in your pussy straightaway. Instead, I take the biggest rod of all, smear some of the lotion from the jar on it, and gently nudge it against your asshole. You feel something. I used to love storms, but now they just bring back memories of late night hospital visits, and the sound of my step-father screaming in pain. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. I breathe in the faint scent of cologne on Daniel’s shirt. It’s mixed in with the smell of pine and something else, distinctly masculine, but I’ve never been able to put my finger on it. Pine. The smell reminds me of the first day, just a month ago when Daniel took me to his “happy place” just a half mile from his. More

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