Eventually, I'm desperate, begging, “I want you down my throat, Daddy.”“What's that, slut?” he asks, although I know he heard me correctly.“... want you down my throat,” I repeat.He hits me hard across the face, leaving a big red mark, and says, “ It doesn't matter what you want, whore.”At this point I feel crazy, so turned on by his words and the way he's treating me. I lose all of my pride and just beg. “Please, Daddy! Please stick your cock down my throat! Please fuck my mouth! I live to serve. Liz told them she didn’t care where they went or when they returned so long as they were out of her hair (and mine) during the 10 days we were going to be in Nashville.I spent my time in Nashville playing genial host to the music stars that paid a visit to the warehouse to practice their part or came to visit Liz at her home.Liz’s neighbor and his family were flying down for the show along with several of the genre’s top artists. Liz’s sound had little in common with the best-selling male. More

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