Missy Ink Magazine Missy Ink Magazine - Fall 2015 - Censorship | Page 52

I ed her , forced her around the chair, ed her by the , and ed her onto the floor. I could feel the blood pumping through her as my went onto her . She was incredibly ed, I could feel it. “You think you belong to yourself,” I whispered in her ear. “You think you belong to yourself, but who do you really belong to?” I asked, finally meeting her gaze. The fire in her eyes only fueled my own. It was late, when I heard her come in- not late enough to be early again, but late enough that the only sounds were from the nocturnal animals- the hum of the crickets over the screeching and scratching of the raccoons outside. “You’re earlier than I expected”, I said, trying hard not to meet her eyes. She stepped behind me, caressing my . “I’m sorry, love”, she purred, and I could tell from the slightly mocking tone in her voice that she wasn’t the least bit sorry. “I’ll wait until you’re nearly asleep next time I stop by to your out.” “Me”, she growled, . It was always like this, her and I. I could never tell her no- though I always wanted to. I suspect it was the same for her. We were locked in a constant power struggle, her and I. When you’re both the predatory type, it upsets the power balance. But the ...oh god, the was incredible. Devastating. Deadly. She started ing my . I ed, my ing into the chair of their own . One touch. That’s all it took. I was hers. She trailed her down to my , finally wrapping her around it. I gasped as I felt the ness envelop my . Nobody knew how to like she did. Her was and in all the right places. I could feel the pressure building. My s were ing and my blood was threatening to boil through my own skin. I didn’t want to , though, not yet. “STOP!” I gasped. She made one last long before coming up, a wicked twinkle in her eyes as she her . She unbuttoned my , sliding her s slowly down my . Her s were cold from the frigid air outside. It only made me more . I could smell the scotch on her breath as she leaned down to my . The smoky scent only served to me further. Missy/Ink | Issue 18 ing my Brat. 52