They're part of the reason journalism is considered to be dead. But just because journalism is dead doesn't mean there are no true journalists left.5:...0 am; Friday.A blaring alarm woke Hannah Hancock from her slumber. With a slap and a grunt she had silenced the clock and risen from her bed. The young woman shuffled to her bathroom bleary eyed, bed haired and still half asleep.First she hissed and recoiled from the bright white lights above her mirror; an act that quickly broke down to a laugh. They grew a bit and I put the clothespins on them again. Then I found an improvised spreader bar and bound my legs on it. They were spread a lot and it hurt me but I deserved the pain. I bent over the bed and took a cane. I've hit myself hard about 25 times until I could take no more. My bottom was all read. My penis started growing again so I stroke it 10 times with the cane until it got down again.I was a very dirty girls and I needed more punishment. I untied myself and went out to find some. "You can always give me a bonus, if you feel you should," she suggested."Let's call the green dress your bonus for this job," I said."I love that idea. I might never get to wear it again but I'm going to love having it in my closet." She grinned. "I'll get with the accountant and have the tax thing done and then have him set up the money transfer to my account.That's how I came to make the agreement for a regular transfer of funds from my account to hers. We were getting to be more and more. When I arrived there, her husband Jorge came to open the door.“Well, well, well…“He said smiling… “Look the bitch we have here…” I demanded to see Helena, but that bastard told me my girlfriend was not there. He added that she probably could be fucking a black lover right now.I turned around without a word, but then Jorge grabbed my wrist and grabbed me inside the house. He closed the door behind us. He said:“Your slut girlie is not here, but I am available whenever you want, Ana…”Then he.