Jerome was going to "teach" me to be a good whore, as that's what I was; a whore.After a little warm up, things got pretty intense."Moan like a girl, ...itch!" Jerome shouted, spitting on my face afterwards. I obeyed, I moaned and gasped like a good little whore, but I didn't do good enough as a hand slapped me across the face."You fucking playing around? You want me to teach you to moan like a slut?" He grabbed my cheeks with his hand, my mouth puckered up and I tried to say sorry."Sowwy" my. This is not the instant sex kind of thing so if you are looking for something like that, this is not your thing. Happy reading!! ***** I have been told that grief comes in stages. Perhaps every strong emotion does? And if it does then mine had completed the three stage cycle- anger, reconciliation, bitterness. I made a decision and I had to live with it. That didn’t make me any less of a person or him any less responsible. Considering the fact that he did not deem it valuable to even glance. More

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