Desi Sister Hidden
I'd watched Blondie go through the routine so many times I knew it by heart already. But Scampi felt he had to go over everything with me, step by step, so I humoured him. We did a quick run-through without Chef Fido and I amazed the director by being letter perfect."Alright!" he exclaimed, turning to the dog trainer. "Come on, you nelly... get that black turd over here... and keep the fucking choke chain on him this time!"Scampi looked up at me and grinned this big, phony grin. "Heh-heh-heh," he said, "you aren't afraid of doggies, are you? Heh-heh." No," I answered matter-of-factly, watching Mr. Clean give commands to the huge poodle.In psychology class, Mr. van Demis taught us about Pavlov and how he taught dogs to drool at the sound of a dinner bell. Mr. van Demis didn't say a word about girls teaching themselves to drool at the sight of a dog. Lordy. Did I ever have an urge to bend over and take a long, loving look at Chef Fido's monster parts! In his white hat, he was about the. In these preparation moments I sometimes feel my role as Daddy’s toy, Daddy’s doll, as he manoeuvred me into the position he wanted. He lay the strap against my ass and raised his hand. The first stripe made me call out and Daddy grabbed me around the waist as he rained them down. I struggled against the blows, but they striped and welted my ass and thighs. I could feel tears building in my throat and before I knew it, I was crying. The stripes kept coming. I heard the bangs bounce off the walls of the dining room. I headr my own voice rise in pitch as the stripes came repeatedly, striping and biting into my skin. I felt my body grow hotter and hotter. I felt my tears escaping my eyes and soon I was simply sobbing, simply crying as Daddy beat my ass. When he slipped his hand between my legs and wiped my wet on my inner thighs, my thighs clenched together to touch Daddy’s hand. Daddy hugs me to his chest and I cry until I catch my breath. Daddy lead me to the table and bent me over.
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