“I did not give you permission to speak.”“DeAndre...I do not want this!” I said, suddenly angry, “I demand you stop! Now!”I heard him laug....“You are in no position to demand anything, sweetheart.”His whacks got harder, and quicker. I was trying not to cry, squirming, trying to get away from his next strike. But no matter how much I moved, he continued to whoop me.I wasn't sure how long it went on, but it seemed like forever.I felt the welts on my ass, him hitting them and making them worse with. He wondered if her question was just rhetorical, but decided to take it seriously. ‘It’s a lot more honest than pornography. Pornography just sells a false image. Prostitutes sell a real experience.’ Dean decided that she had meant the question as rhetoric, but had taken his answer more seriously than she had wanted to. For a moment, Dean had fingered the entwined images on the medallion in his pocket from the School for Social Expression [really the School for Sexual Expression, but he was. More

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