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They were meant to hurt him, and they did; they were salt in his self-inflicted wounds – a pain he needed, and welcomed. They also were a last straw... a sign that she might not dump him like the betraying filth he was."Please hurt me, mistress," he mumbled. "Hurt me and take this pain away." A hand slapped his head. A foot wrenched itself free to kick his face. He rolled over like a dog, exposing his belly."Please, mistress," he repeated. "Please save me; don't abandon me." Mistress?" The anger. The two men left without another word and Bianca tried her best to look pretty with all the cum on her face – a bimbo won’t get any cock unless she looks pretty. She then walked back to her apartment revelling in the stares she received. When she got home, Bianca looked in the mirror and giggled – she did look very sexy with all that cum on her face. Then she frowned, confused: why was she wearing all these boring clothes, and why were her tits and ass so small? She knew she was a bimbo, but. Her small, firm breastsmade perfect mounds in the tight fabric. Her hair, which was long andloose before was now in a ponytail and there were bootie socks and tennisshoes on her feet."Yes, you like looking at me," she said. "You like looking at my body.You like looking at my eyes, my lips. You want to look at me. You want tosee my thin, graceful neck, my tight and firm tummy. You want to see mylong, smooth legs and my elegant feet." Seeming almost absent-minded sheslowly turned away and walked. I also knew she never wore panties. I slid my hands down over hips and down her sides, reveling in the feel of her. She was so beautiful and sexy. We had never fucked in the breakfast room, but I wanted her so badly right then, I wanted to just throw her on the floor and take her that minute. She removed my hands from her firm thighs and turned slowly and looked me in the eye, "I missed you last night." "Who was she, and... how was she?" she said as she pulled out of my embrace and walked.
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