He fell in a pile on the floor, legs tangled in the pants at his ankles. “On your knees, boy!” she barked, and he struggled to get himself upright... his pants turning inside out, around his shoes. “Knees apart! Now!” He scrambled to obey, felt his shirttails tickling his hard cock, jutting up from his crotch, advertising his shame and desire. He looked up at her, felt her hand across his face and saw stars.“Don’t you look at me, boy!” she spat. “Don’t you put your filthy eyes on me!” He lowered. Most of the times it's a composite state, impatience, frustration, anger, compassion, pushing me to those extremes. After this happens, I am ashamed and embarrassed. That my actions work after a fashion is small consolation." No, Berthold, there must be more to it. Karla told me about her reactions and impressions. She, too, felt shame, hate, fear, amongst other things. She had been appalled that she became aroused when you first treated her. Your aloofness and impersonal behaviour made her. More

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