The Submissive Journalist's Fantasy. Desmond Blume
that her mouth was gagged. This time he laughed softly. Maniacally.
“No one is going to help you here, Mina,” he said.
She wondered how he knew her name. She had the sense that they had met before, but she couldn’t place him. Suddenly, she felt the man’s hand on the back of her head. He grabbed the hair just at the nape of her neck. He didn’t pull it yet but just gripped it tight enough to show her he could. She felt her muscles growing tense but there was a shiver of something else that ran down her spine. Was it pleasure? Was it a surprise? Whatever it was, she didn’t want to admit that she liked it.
“Fuck off,” she said under the muffle of the gag.
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