EXTRACT FOR
DEBBIE'S CRAPPY ATTITUDE
(Kim Hardwick)

Leaning over further, she kissed me while pulling out my cock.  She began to stroke it while wrestling with my tongue.  After a few minutes she pulled back, the intensity in her eyes proving once again that the way to a woman's heart is through brutal torture.

"I want you to whip my clitoris with that leather strop.  I want you to whip me now!"

Grabbing her hair, I pulled her away, gratified with the look of disappointment in her face and laid down the ground rules.

"You're going to have to beg me to beat you up, slut.  You have to convince me that your wet pussy deserves my cock, as well as my baby batter.  If you can convince me, then and only then will I take my whips and bamboo canes and brutalize your clitoris.  Go on, do it."

Standing up, she straddled my legs and then slowly knelt in front of my crotch.  She slowly pulled out my hard throbbing cock and, beginning with my head, began to lick her way down to my balls.  Looking at me, she whispered.  "Marcus, I want you to hurt me to the point of sending me to the hospital.  And then, after I get discharged, I want you to take some oversized bottle and shove it up my ass and beat me about the face with a belt.  I want to howl out in agony.  I never, ever want to take pain killers as long as I live.  Every gut wrenching blow you give me will only trigger my orgasm.  And Marcus, all my orgasms belong to you.  You and your fucking cave man attitude have shown me what sexual fulfillment is."

Holding on to her grimy red hair, I lifted her slightly, just to see her green eyes.

"Debbie, you make me sick.  I'm going to allow you to suck my cock and then lick my sweaty balls before picking you up and slashing your left buttock with my folding knife.  Does the imagery turn you on?"

Her throaty response in the positive confirmed that deep down, Miss America was a pain slut.  I always suspected she was a filthy little cunt.

"Marcus, I want you to gather drunk Icelandic fishermen and have me suck off their cocks and then let them urinate on me while you video tape it and edit it so that my family and friends can see what a disgusting whore their daughter turned out to be.  Hurt me now!"

Never disappoint a pain slut; that's always been my motto.  So I punched her and then began to kick her about the floor until we ended up in the kitchen with her convulsing on the floor like a stuck pig.

"You asked for it Debbie, and by God, I am going to give it to you."

We both looked at each other in one of those magical moments in life, when two people know that the next word or act will change everything; their lives, everything.

"Marcus, I want you to piss on me and then rape my ass."

As I said, this moment is one we will both look back on and realize that our lives and what we will be, began at this precise moment.

"Debbie, nothing would give me more pleasure than urinating on your worthless, and bruised body, and then shoving my gigantic stallion dildo, Thor, up your filthy anus.  You really make me sick, you know that?"  

She smiled up at me and that's when I realized, an epiphany if you will, that Debbie Cunningham, Miss America 2007, had known about me and my talents all the while.  She had obviously planned to seduce me and have me ravage and destroy her womanly assets.  The carnage I and the others visited upon this red haired whore were far from being accidental or happenstance.  This slut was a genuine, bona fide pain slut.  I was about to urinate on a unicorn; a woman who's not supposed to exist.

"You slut, by the time I'm through with you, your obsession with getting hurt will be thoroughly satisfied."

Closing her eyes as I pulled out my cock and smiling up at me, she thanked me.

I let loose a hot, torrent of urine that hit her face, mouth and hair with force.  I hadn't gone to the bathroom in hours.  As my relief became more palpable, I only regretted that the homeless men and LeRoy couldn't be here to bathe her in their golden elixir.

"Open your mouth; drink some of my golden waste."

She complied like the good pain slut she was.  I was beginning to like her more and more.  The fact that she engaged in subterfuge to meet me and really has some temper on her, was fast becoming irrelevant.  Her affinity for pain, combined with her soft skin, red hair, erect nipples and wet pussy was making her a keeper, in my eyes at least.  I guess I can live with her crappy attitude.

"After I finish draining my lizard, I'm going to help you to the shower and have you clean up and then we're taking a trip to Iceland.  Don't forget to brush your teeth and use the mouthwash; I don't want to smell piss on your breath."  I was beside myself with giddiness.  My creative juices always get flowing upon meeting a woman who loves pain and humiliation.

I watched her limp over to my bathroom, recently renovated, and decided she deserved a stay at one of Iceland's finest hotels.  Using my IPhone, I quickly contacted Ragnar, my contact at hotel Apotek and requested my usual suite.  Hopefully, I won't be disappointed (considering the outrageous tips I leave, I doubt I shall be) and can both relax and continue with my training.  

After texting Ragnar, I sent out various messages cancelling sundry appointments for the remainder of the week.  I was determined to take as much time as possible in order to fully break in Debbie.  I nearly overwhelmed her with physical punishment and knew, based on the typical female's tendency to adhere to men inflicting pain that she was at that delicate stage where subtle and measured doses of affection and romance would lead her to believe that being my slave was for the best.  

I walked over to where Debbie's black dress, stained with dried sperm and assorted bodily fluids lay on the floor, testimony to her utter destruction.  I chuckled; surprised at how I continue to plumb the depths of human depravity with each new female I train.  Soon, the only challenges left to my humanity will be large scale amputations.  I've whipped, tortured, mutilated women in my quest to develop the perfect woman.  And it seems as if each new challenge goads me to ever more depraved acts.  I can still recall when a pair of nipple clamps with five pound lead weights plus some lashings with a bullwhip would suffice to break women.  Lately, those formerly successful tactics have served to merely whet the slut's appetite for pain.