That counted for something, maybe I could last longer than Marcia would. Maybe he wouldn’t leave me to rot as quickly. Maybe I could prove myself to...him… I laughed inwardly. It was doubtful.“Chris, it’s too unreal. It mocks me.” I closed my eyes, and prepared for the worst.“In that case, get ready you fucking whore, you’re my toy now and this has just begun!” He thrust in with all his strength, and tore past the thin layer of skin with ease. He had me. I was his. Me: The cute girl, who always. She was crying now, and her father remained irrational and angrier than Lucy had ever seen him, and the injustice of it was that he refused to talk to her or explain why he was behaving so abnormally. He just kept swigging at his whiskey and telling her to undress. "Come on, Lucy. Strip. Let's see that bare ass. Let's see those cute tits. I want your clothes on the floor, and then you'll receive thirty strokes on your behind; thirty strokes across the pussy and thirty strokes on each of your. More

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