I prayed he wouldn't smack my thighs. "Good girl," he said. He rubbed my back with one hand as he continued to dispense the pain. There was no swayin... him. I started crying softly. I was in terrible pain, but my pussy was wet and sopping. It was almost as hot as my rear. I wanted him to take me in his arms. "One minute left." I whimpered as he roasted my very well chastised behind. It would leave bruises, or hand prints at least, and sitting would be out of the question for a while. It. But although he made the decision to simply focus on picking up the odd pot where he could, the problem was that not many of them were coming his way. That remained the case throughout the first couple of hours of play and it was only by making the occasional move at the right time that he managed to remain around average in chips for both the table and tournament. But he knew he could not continue like this and that before long, if he remained card-dead, he would be forced into attempting to. More

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