"I know your type. You're a big ladies man, right? Like to fuck any little thing with a pussy. But I saw the way you were staring at my crotch. You're...a classic closet queer. You can't admit it to yourself, but once you get bent over and have your cherry popped, you'll be begging for more cock." Fuck you," I shouted as I literally ran to the shower. As the warm water washed over my body, I was shocked to find that my cock was now rock hard. The guy was a cocky bastard but I had to admit, he did. She, Francine, wanted to be the most wretched, the most despised. She wanted to be right at the bottom of the heap. She deliberately stumbled and allowed the parasol almost, though not quite, to fail to shade her Mistress. The whip struck her hard on the rump, several times, making her shriek. She felt that her own position as the lowliest of the low had been regained - for a time.Francine began to feel so thirsty that she began to pray for water - even a drop - to ease her agony, but the Lady. More

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