Valery Magic Camsoda - Valery Magic Camsoda had never been with an other woman.

She was both fascinated and inexperienced. Through a combination of her inexperience and her queer leaning views on sex. She felt that her "experience" with men was limited, and thus not many relationships appealed to her. With Dominants, she feels that a strong sexual drive is a must. Furthermore, she discovers that she thrives on the sexual excitement of strangers. To be honest, she was a little suspicious of myself, partly because of our insecurities, and partly because of my preconceived ideas of what submissiveness should be like. As I was riding along the south shore of Lake Superior, I was a little nervous. It's a swamp, and the breeze was chilly. I couldn't see a cat from behind, and partly because of my nervousness I let my knees sway. The sway was pleasing to my physical eyes. It almost felt like the legs were moving slightly before the feet. The cat stood still, looking out at the sunlight. When I passed through the intersection of the two lanes of traffic, I slowed down. As I did, I noticed the car behind me passing the bicycle. The driver's window was open and the shutter clicked. I stopped just as the bike did, and I slid into the back seat, all the while squirming, moaning, and whispering.

As the shutter clicked again, I buckled the seat belt. I kind of freaked out, but managed to quiet the mousetrap before I passed out. When I awoke, I was still wearing my slacks and a sun dress. The sun was passing through the open window and I felt a slight tingle in my crotch. I started to move, but stopped, standing and looking at the car in front of me. I started to protest, but a thought struck me. I knew the driver's side was air conditioned, and the radiator was turned off. The thought made me smile, but I wanted to speak. I put my hands up to my face and pushed my lips into the side of my mouth to protest. The thought made me shut up. I start to say something, but I need to think, so I changed my protest to "please do not disturb me." The car slowly drove away, and I felt the sensation of its sun filtering through the side of my face. I breathed deeply through my nose. I started to get up, but was told, "walk over to the window." I did so, and then the first pillar of the roof smashed against me. I fell forward, and my head hit the edge of the roof. I started to get up, but was once again stopped.

I started to protest, but was again ordered to "stay there." I did so and then the roof finally pierced me, sending me tumbling down on the stone wall, until I remained on my hands and knees. I was looking up at the sky as the sun was moving in and out of the window. I was looking down at the hand that had been pumping away at me, a small hand which was moving quite impressively. I remained on my hands and knees, as the train journey home had been longer than I had expected. I could see the silhouette of the roof through the partially open windows, and I knew the windows were partly open due to the high arches of the buildings. From behind me I could hear the conversation, partly in English, partly in French. I could see nothing but thought I could see him, moving away from me. I wanted so badly to see his face, to see his eyes, to feel his hands, to touch his skin, to see the blood from his fingertips. The rooftop was pitch dark, and I felt a little cold, but I could still feel him against my back. I began to push myself onto the hand, in hopes that he would come to the aid of my front. I was mistaken. He did, but he was far too weak to stop me. A few more seconds of pleading and hope and fear and humiliation and submission and submission and I was on my knees, my head buried between my arms, my hands cuffed behind my back. My head turned to the side, and I was hoping that he would return. I did not speak. I lingered near my orgasmic peak, and just continued to head up and down..