"Because I want the salad done the way I like it, and the steaks not too rare, and not over-cooked. So you do as I tell you or you get a slapping." Th...t's not what I meant..." began Trevor, before Charlie slapped him down again. Charlie had powerful arms and big hands."You mean why are we fucking your women and chaining you to the kitchen floor? Because we can, Bozo, and because it gives us pleasure. And because you are a thief and a swindler whose disappearance will cause no real alarm."Trevor. She was wearing a bra, but it was one of those elastic pullover things that provided cover and not much else. She had a nice set, g****fruit sized, and they needed no support.I rubbed her back, sort of a pressure-move motion. Without oil, it's about all you can do. I easily slipped my hands under the bra-strap to get at her shoulders. She lifted herself again, as though she wanted me to move the strap out of the way too. I moved my hands down either side, found the bottom seam and pulled it. You called me a eunuch."Dylan scrunched his shoulders when the bedroom door slammed. "That went well," he whispered.The moody husband sighed, pushed the soggy cereal away and smirked, "At least she didn't say anything about me not taking a shower."He finished the juice and stared intently at the remnants of pulp that clung to the sides. "Just like my face, bits and pieces of soft tissue held together with superglue."He picked up the bowl and glass and shuffled to the sink. He set them down and. Shadows of flickering candlelight dance across her exposed backside. Katherine sucks in air shakily, anticipating the beating. CRACK. Quincy forcefully delivers the first blow, landing the quirt’s leather flails squarely across her bare bottom. Marks immediately begin to rise. CRACK. Katherine grits her teeth at the second strike. The sting begins to set in. CRACK… CRACK… CRACK. The blows land with rhythmic precision across her bottom. Katherine lets out a cry of pain. But is it just pain?.
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