"What the fuck do you think you're doing, you little asshole?!"Richie's lower lip trembled as he looked up at the hulking form of his father, the hand...which had struck him still curled into a fist. Only then did he realize that he had not been slapped but punched, something he had never seen his father do.Richie looked past his father. Melinda acted as if she had heard nothing. She struggled to stand, beating her fists in impotent blows against the unyielding glass of her mother's prison.Richie. “Mistress,” she said firmly, reaching for the cuffs. “From now on, you shall call me Mistress, or you will feel the sting of my crop.” Ha! The sting of my crop. Nice – she’s really getting into this role-play thing. Without warning, she whacked my hard-on with the business end of a black riding crop. Where the fuck did that come from? “Yes, Mistress,” I grunted through clenched teeth as she closed the cuffs around my wrists and secured them to the bed posts. As soon as I was secure in. More

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