I’m afraid I might be a painslut.”She reddened at her own words.“What do you know about painsluts?” he asked.“You have my browser history,�... she replied. “You know what kind of sites I used to look at.” She shrugged, “I’ve heard the term. I’ve even seen some videos of painsluts.”“What you’ve seen,” he said firmly, “is videos of women who were exploited for their addiction to pain. People who cared nothing about them, used them up... abused them... destroyed them... or allowed them to destroy. Now I increase the strength a bit, but not too much. Tap tap tap. Anna still hasn't said a word. I must have hit her several dozen times by now, but none of it counts. So I keep going. Her skin is turning red, not the deep angry red of recently whipped skin, but the reddish glow of irritated skin. And tap tap tap it goes. We must be well past 100 taps now, and again I increase the strength a bit. But no too much. Tap tap tap. Anna is squirming now, the taps becoming noticeable if not actually. Foxx moaned his satisfaction with her as she subserviently knelt - her heavily ripened breasts swaying like fruit ready to be picked - between his widespread legs. She was holding the lust-thickened shaft of his cock with one hand, while the other reached under to caress his sperm- laden testicles in their scrotal sac. In spite of the erotic pleasure she was bringing him, his mind was on other matters. Changes, of which Phyllis wasn't aware as yet, were in the offing. At the last meeting he had. When I sat down again, I worried that Karissa would get the wrong impression. I turned off the music and sat down again. It was too quiet so I turned on the television. A soap opera was playing. Low music and a man and a woman talking close in a dark restaurant. I flipped the channel to network news and there came a knock on the door.I let Karissa in and we sat down on my loveseat in the living room. I gave her a glass of wine."Early," she said. "You're dressed for work?" Yeah, I was just on my.
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