For a start." I looked up into his face with alarm. “I didn’t bring them, Sir,” I said. “And why is that?” “I didn’t think—“ “No y...u did NOT think, krys. Well,” he sighed, “you need to figure out how to fix this.” I wondered if my mother had any clothespins in the basement or any clips of any kind in the house. “I will find something, Master,” I said and set off to find suitable substitutes for the clamps. “Good girl. And if you are going by the kitchen, bring me some hot sauce and a small dish. Still half frozen with fear, all I could think to say was, "I don't know." Fuck that!" His angry outburst made me clench onto my gym bag for dearlife. "Tell me! How many times?!" So many times, I wouldn't know how to count," I sobbed, quickly giving him the honest answer, not wanting to anger him any further."And what the fuck makes you think I want panty-wearin' faggots like you lookin' at my body, huh?!" I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I continued to sob."Well sorry ain't good enough, homo." He. More

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