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She had a bright pink thong on.I grabbed her ass, pulling her toward me so she could feel my hard cock pressed up against her."Did my dirty girl fuck herself in a public bathroom?" I asked her."Yes," she replied."And is she going to be my little cocksucker now?" Yes," she repeated, and got down on her knees. Then she pulled me into her mouth. Deeper. Deeper than she ever had before.When she started to gag, she pulled back, but then composed herself and tried to get me deeper. Her throat was trying to push me out, but she held where she was, staring at me.Her eyes were watering, messing up her mascara. She started bobbing back and forth, never removing eye comtact. Mascara dripped down her face as she took me down her throat.I grabbed her hair but she bobbed at her own pace, pulling me in far enough that she would begin to gag and then just out enough to recover.Saliva dripped from her mouth. Each time I pulled all the way out, her face would be linked to my cock by a stream of spit. However, if I did all the chores on time, the man of the housewould take me to the back room and fuck my brains out. During this partof the game, I'd rub myself and use the dildo in my ass, pretending tobe the housewife in the game. The slave game was about a slave whoneeded to be obedient. I would be given a series of orders that I wouldneed to complete orders exactly as they were given to me and in thecorrect order. This game also used voice activation and I needed toacknowledge the commands with a "Yes, Master" every time or it would beconsidered a failure as well. The commands included chores, degradingactivities, sexual acts, submitting to torture and being abused. Therewas no reward in this game except fulfilling the tasks I was given. If Ifailed, the tasks became harder and more difficult. I would receive moreabuse and the tasks would be more degrading.These days, my time was spent playing the video games, watching TV andmasturbating. I was using the dildo almost exclusively..
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The gossipers around the Court thought my weaknesses were women and frivolity. My dream was to do something worthwhile and to have female support in that activity. My wife was incapable of any portion of that.Forster returned and was quite unhappy. He asked if there was a responsible individual with whom he might speak. I asked Josef to give him Louise’s address and telephone number.The next day I was driven to the Central. Hofmannsthal was there discussing Greek tragedy with Wassermann. I gathered Hofmannsthal was re-writing his version of Sophocles for Strauss to set. I was silent.“No comments?” asked Altenberg.“Sorry. No. I find Sophocles too depressing, too bloody.”“I agree,” Wassermann said. “Yet there is a deep truth in the plays.”“That’s what Freud says, isn’t it?”“Yes. Did you read his sex-studies? Did he see the Schnitzler or did Arthur read Freud?”It was too empty for me. I soon excused myself and returned home. I began reading Wassermann’s stories about sisters, but it was.

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