Today, the bodyguards had killed three men and a woman. Black porn “Two, thank you Master!”
Dew dampened her bush by the fourth strike, and lust burned in her voice as she made her count. They flooded through our home, angry and shouting for our blood. I needed to survive—to protect Tom, my daughter, all the other slaves. “Five, thank you Master!” Her voice was stressed, rising in pitch. “You were the only one that was forced to be my slave.”
“Then I wouldn’t be your slave.”
Death walked to me. I clapped my hands. Soon hot wax would run down the candle, just hot enough to sting, but not hot enough to do real damage. Beautiful paintings and works of calligraphy were ripped from the walls. I was surprised by how calm I was. Then I would have all night to feel helpless, horny, aching to be touched by my Master. “Good evening, slaves,” Tom simply greeted.
