When I got home He met me at the door and instructed me to strip. "You were a bad girl. You will be punished. Repeat." He said."I was a bad girl and I...will be punished." I repeated quietly, looking down. He then led me to a chair and told me to bend over. When I did He bent out my elbow and said, "Don't move, Slut." Yes, Master." What if I were as stupid as you say I am?" He asks."You aren't stupid, Master." You said I was this morning." Thats not what I meant, Sir." So now you are arguing?". " We tried to mimic the bi girl party that we first went to. Everyone show up about 7. Everyone bring a side dish and/or a bottle of liquor. at 11:00 rules laid out . Everything is to be consensual. No closing doors. Condoms in the bathroom. We tried doing ice breakers, but we never could find girls willing to dawn lingerie and "welcome" new girls into our club with an "initiations." On the first party we hosted, one of the girls (I believe it was the last one) answered the question of: What is. I cowered.“Oh, your fear is delicious! Are you ready to give me the safe word?” Justin seemed so sadistic and in control. I whimpered when he cracked the whip loudly.“Yes, Sir!” I agreed with tears streaming down my face.“Then say it!” He demanded.My body was so overstimulated from adrenalin and pain that I could only whimper and mumble.“What words do you need to say to make this evaluation end?” He asked again.“I don’t know!” I whimpered.“Meatloaf! Say Meatloaf and your pain goes away and you. But the steady thump-thump of the old two-cylinder Deere soon became just background noise for his reveries. “That’s the nice thing about some farming operations,” Terry thought to himself. “Raking hay and harrowing are mostly brainless. It relaxes me and give me time to think about things.” He let his mind wander as he thump-thumped across the field. He wondered if Isolde was more than just a pretty face – did she read real books, or just romance trash? He had seen the corner of a paperback.