Michael had insisted that she move in with him. It had taken a few hard weeks of her protesting. Anna had a strong sense of morality, but Michael was able to get her to see his reason.
Truthfully, Anna was becoming addicted to Michael. She had started going to his house early in the morning to fix him breakfast, going to his house during lunch to prepare a midday meal, and retired to his house in the evenings to cook him dinner and have a little dessert.
After she had moved in, she got used to waking up with his hands caressing from just beneath her breasts, over the generous curves of her hips and back up again. Just like now.
She could feel the moisture building between her legs, accompanied by that familiar tickle deep inside that would cause her to beg for his cock.
Michael loved dipping his tongue into the narrow slit between her thighs. Anna was ever tight. When he put his face between her legs, she tugged on his short blonde locks and panted his named in such a breathless, wanton way. Her desire drove him mad.
"How's my sweet little black slut?" She only arched up off the bed, her back a perfect half circle that thrust her breasts toward the sky. Those nipples were so hard. He let his tongue taste one then the other.
It took a lot to stop himself from fucking her brains out right then. Instead, he rose from the bed and searched the side-table drawer for two lengths of satin ribbon. When he turned to her on the bed, he found her with her fingers buried in her pussy, working her tight dark cunt.
She got like that sometimes. Well, most times. He didn't say anything, just watched her with her pink tongue caught in the corner of her lips, writhing and whispering her need to cum. "Unh, my pussy," she groaned, turning her head to look at him.
She couldn't do it quite on her own. Not since she met him. A half smirk spread across his mouth as he reached for her wrists and ankles, tying each of them tightly. Her hands behind her back, and her feet tightly fit together.
He carried her over to a chair and laid her across his lap as he took a seat. Whack! His hand fell hard against her ass and her whole body jerked beneath his palm.
"Does my whore like that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes... You like when I pound -- your -- ass!" Each syllable was punctuated by a succession of harder and harder blows. "Don't you, pretty baby?"
She only whimpered and squirmed against his thighs. He knew, without looking, that she was biting that lower lip, probably so hard that she could taste blood.
He let his finger slide down between her ass cheeks to her pussy, reveling in the wetness. He slid two fingers into her and listened to her moan. "Beg me, Anna."
She didn't say anything, just moaned softly. Too soft for his taste. He retracted his attention and slammed his hand onto her ass before standing up and letting her fall out of his lap and onto the ground. He stood over her, with his hands on his hips.
"Beg, Anna."