I recall thinking that my bar fridge only had a bottle half that size in it. Did he have it in there, ready for us, ready for me? Looking at me across...the room, he pulls the cork and it pops with a bang. He produces two glasses from the drawer beside and fills them both. The silence is interrupted when he suddenly rushes over to turn off the taps. “Bloody hell Tanya. Can’t you see it’s about to overflow?” I am still feeling stunned. How did I get into this room? How did I just blow this man who. I felt absolutely emasculated. I couldn’t argue in that moment that he had made his bitch. He had a moment of property over me. He had used my mouth and then my ass for his own selfish pleasure, putting his cock inside me twice and finally deposited a bit of himself (his sperm) inside my body. I still wasn’t sure if the experience meant I was a faggot, since I had been forced to do this, but there was not question over who was the man and who was the bitch. Nothing in my years on trying on. More

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