I just wished the damn door would fucking open so the torture would end.When it finally opened, they barely glanced at me before calling a priest over...to mend my wounds. I thought they were showing a small sign of humanity. After being healed, I no longer ached. Blood was in my hair, and I hadn’t cleaned myself sufficiently. So I failed inspection again. Instead of food and the chance to rest, he just said, “Brush your hair until we open the door again,” and closed the door. He hadn’t been. Jasmine blushed brightly on the other end of the bed, recalling her own training, the cold and unforgiving nozzles that often left her weeping, and then the slide of his manhood, hot and springy, burning in her bottom, pulsing and throbbing with her father's excitement.She could not have believed the difference it had brought on her, one her father had quickly determined when his hand had cupped her crotch and found her wet with desire."Now, let us give Marsha what she needs," Samuel told his. More

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