It was in my purse on the front porch. I pulled upmy panties and my tights and minced as quickly as my heels would allow. Icould still feel the cum dr...pping down my thigh. I rummaged through thepurse and pulled out the phone."Hello?" Well done, Kimberly." Thank you, daddy." Because you addressed me properly I will, for the moment, forgive thefact that I did not ask for your response." ---" Good, now tell me you're sorry." I am sorry daddy." You're forgiven, sweety. The code for the door is. . it came with the job... there was one inescapable fact. She had been sexually assaulted. Maybe it wasn't a surprise, and she had known it would happen for weeks, but still it had happened. A traumatic experience like that can't just be swept aside. If it was me, I would have trouble separating the pleasurable side of sex from the memory of the assault. So, how could we get past it? I had a feeling this was one of those times when communication would be even more important than usual. Silence. More

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