Christina looked into her own eyes and suddenly it struck her. 

She liked what she saw.

She admired her body, so barely covered with the clothes he’d made her buy. She’d fought him for weeks when he said no bra, and now she only ever wore them to the gym or as part of an outfit.

The little breasts she’d hated for years now proudly on show, erect nipples poking through, finally loving how they looked.

‘You are beautiful,’ she whispered to herself out of habit. His words, in her mouth, and finally, she believed it.

‘I’m a slut, his slut, and I love it,’ she announced, biting her own lip, flirting with herself as she realised what she could now do.

‘I want… to fuck you,’ she told her reflection. It of course, returned the thought.

And so she did. And she came, without guilt. He’d told her this day would come, she hadn’t believed him, and he’d denied her until it did.

He was going to be so proud.

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