Description
Our Story Begins:
Steve Hammer smashed his fist into the face of the terrified blonde. She was a juicy one, the best he had ever trapped. A few of his other girls stood around watching him beat the shit out of her. He had a fantastic group of blonde slave girls and they all knew the power of his hands very well indeed.
There were a few of his kinky neighbors outside watching the fun. Well, he thought, there was no harm in that. He always enjoyed it more with a crowd watching. He caught sight of a man and a woman together peering through one of his windows. He imagined the man’s hand up the chick’s skirt playing at her moist cuntlips. Her hand was probably in his pants going at his rod. Let them have their fun, he was certainly having his.
“Tell me what I want to know, you stubborn bitch. I’ll break you apart if you don’t talk.” Of course, there was actually nothing that he wanted to hear from her. Susan was a stupidass waitress and it was merely part of the game, acting as if he were some sort of spy interrogating an enemy agent. It was interesting, though, the way some of the broads actually would begin to talk. They would confess to the most fanciful and grotesque acts, strange perversions and conspiracies they made up in their dumbass heads to try and alleviate their sufferings.
He slammed her across her soft pelvis. He buried his fists in her belly, left, right, left. Rapid flurries of hurting punches.
“C’mon, you stupid damn bitch, open up.” “Not until you whip the shit out of me,” she answered.
He was so surprised that he stopped cold. What was this shit, anyway? This was the one approach he had never experienced before. Could she be some sort of weird masochist who enjoyed having a sadistic maniac beat the shit out of her? But if she wanted to be a participant instead of a victim, so much the better the game.
“Talk first, bitch, then I’ll give you your whipping,” he growled. It would not be wise to let her think she held the upper hand. A broad who knew how to take a good whipping held an advantage over a cruel bastard like himself. The sadist enjoyed thinking himself in command, but if they acted out her fantasy then who was the slave and who the master. No, she would play by his rules.
“We whip after you talk,” he repeated.
He poked his finger brutally into the torn corner of her pretty mouth and massaged the rivulet of blood running from it into her chin. He pinched and squeezed the bruises and scrapes on her battered face and tits.
“Nothing doing big shot,” she snarled. “You do as I say or I tell you zero.”
It would be interesting to see what she had to say when the time for her confession came.
“All right bitch, I’ll tie you up and give you ——
