" I am the man, you are the bitch now, SAY IT!"I numbly repeated back to him, "You are the man Sir and I am the bitchSir."He passed me the poppers and...casually flipped up my skirt, I can onlyimagine in shame and humiliation the view that I presented to him?"Oh look at that little strip of flimsy pantie fabric protecting yourcun.t" So easy to just move aside and get at you bitch," he quipped.As he did so he spat onto the top of the cleft of my buttocks andhelped it down the crack with his. Some would argue this was a good reason by any measure. It was for his genitalia that February bought the painting. She took one look at that eternally swollen cock made from oil paint, and decided that she wanted this painting in her bedroom. It was good for the morale of her loins. It appeared to be whispering to her, asking her to purchase it. When she got home to hang up the painting, she read up the subject of the painting, Priapus, and found out that he was a minor rustic fertility God. More

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