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Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.

Our pasts burden us with guilt but bless us with knowledge, so that we can ensure that we and those around us don’t make the same mistakes, and help those who do make those mistakes learn and grow to be better people. Even if there is no way to truly repent for our crimes, to make up for what we’ve done, that doesn’t mean we should ever stop trying.

“Really? You sure?” Her asshole had spread but gripped my two fingers tightly. I didn’t know if another finger would even fit. Carol just nodded, her eyes closed again. Her beautiful red hair cascaded across the island. Her pale skin against the dark granite was lovely. I pulled my fingers out part way and straightened out my ring finger. Forming a triangle with my fingertips, I pushed against her anus again. Already relaxed, her sphincter accepted my third finger with ease. I pushed my fingers in and out, but only to the first knuckle. I thought it might be too thick to push all the way inside. Carol disagreed.