He said, “Now, give me the money.” I got up and went to the dresser, took some bills from a drawer and perversely counted them out, saying, “Tw...nty for showing me your nice cock and fifty for making it good and hard, one hundred for a good feel of it and two hundred more for beating off for me, or us. What else?” Carlos spit out, “Shithead, just give me my money.” I chuckled, “That’s what I’m doing. I just want to make sure you’re getting what you’ve got coming to you. So the five hundred. If you agree measure from your clitorise to the floor on tip toe and leave a note beside my meal tonight oh and do not and mention of this matter again until Friday it`s forbidden. Beside the plate at his teatime, their main meal of the day, was a note, it said cryptically “just 34 inches.” Next morning, he was busy in the shed for a long hour, it was another overcast day, but the garden was his target and the veg patch by Friday was looking tidy. He noticed at tea that night she was looking a. I stand there as the girls look me over, feeling silly."you don't look like a six. are you a six?"the blond one smiled up at me. I had no idea... "oh, right like SHE gets a vote!" at this they both laughed. the little brunette broke in-"ok, let's start over! her face?" hmmm... I'd say a... two." a TWO!! wow. really?oh, c'mon she's not that bad!" "I don't like her nose. It's too puged. and her cheeks are too... round. she looks like... porky pig!" this really busted them up.i've never liked my. She wasn’t able to choose what happened to her, she didn’t get to choose to be raped, but the pain she felt was an illusion brought on by social stigma and social meaning. In reality, any act could have caused the same damage as what she went through, but she had been shaped by society to view what happened to her in that way.I blamed myself for her death because I needed to feel like I could have done something. I needed to feel like even for a moment, even if it involved shameful failure, I.