Young Indian Woman Experiences Doggy Style For The First Time

Maybe he suspected she had something to do with a dealer or a debt collector. The hemline came to just above her knee – not too short, not too long, sexuality with ambiguity. Again, no answer. It aroused her more and it aroused him more, her because she knew he would wilfully ruin her, willfully ruin himself in and for her; for him, because it proved he was punishing her – punishing her for coming to his house, for hitting him, for dressing the way she had – “Stupid, fucking bitch.”
He’d rolled her onto her back now, was sat on her waist, a knee either side of her. He’d slapped her multiple times – sometimes her face, at other times her breasts and body. Her hair had been pulled and her head banged here and there, him spitting threats whilst he did it. The estate he lived on was a shit-hole. The fabric was flimsy, it snapped easily and then it was the cup of her bra that was being forced upwards, her small swollen nipple exposed to the hand and increasingly putrid air. With her free hand,