But this ... Please ... I don’t want to do this ... Please, Randy.”“Please?” I asked, anger swirling through my stomach. “Do you know how ba...ly Dad beat me because you lied about me drinking his beer? Oh, right, you fucking cunt, you stood there and watched!”“I...” She shuddered. “You’re a boy. You can take it.”“And you’re a slut!” I shouted. “So you can flash your tits at Dad or any other guy I tell you to! As much as it disgusts you, it makes you wet. Feeling Dad’s eyes on your tits makes. ’ I ordered. I knew I caught my southern phone voice off guard, ‘My… my name?’ ‘Yes please, what’s the name that goes along with that charming southern accent of yours?’ I flirted. ‘Samantha, Sir.’ She hesitantly replied. ‘Samantha, thank you. It was a pleasure speaking to you this morning. Good day,’ I hung up the phone immediately before she could say a word. All part of my never-ending game, keep ’em on their toes and always guessing. I knew that I had probably made Samantha’s morning with. More

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