This was different. Still a little pleasure but much more pain, by the tenth blow it was hurting enough that the erection was no longer a distraction....I just thought about the next blow and could I take it? Then the next and the next. I started to breath heavy with each blow. It helped a little. Then the breath started to turn to a sound of pain. I knew Nancy could hear but it did not matter anymore. It did not matter if she looked or not. I just had to get through this. Suddenly she stopped. I. “Cooking my dinner like a good little bitch,” he said. It was true; I was stooped over the stove. My mother certainly never cooked and Ian had a tendency to get violent if he didn’t have a meal on the table after work. I said nothing, it was usually best to unless he actually asked a direct question.“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer. The kitchen was far from large and most of the space was taken up by a small dining table so a little closer meant he was almost breathing down my. More

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