I’m a good Christian!”
“No, you’re a good cocktease,” you retort, “This is your fault for being so beautiful and so pure. A few hours later, Trish wakes up again. “Not again!” she cries. “Shhhh,” you sing softly, “I’m going to send you home, Trish.”
“This is my home!” she yowled. She has opted to stay in tonight instead of going out, because she feels socially drained. The belt strikes again, and this time, it flogs her so hard that it slices through her soft skin, creating an open laceration across her blistering ass cheeks. “Please,” Trish stutters, “Please, don’t beat me. “Who’s there?” she asks, turning her head to the door. Blood spurts out, spraying across your delighted and entranced face. “Th… Thank you,” Trish whimpers, a little surprised that you were done so soon. She glares up at you but reluctantly stops talking. She squirms around, but she can barely move, and you still have one hand tightly gripping her hair. Blood sprays out of the fresh laceration and across your face.
