The rice cooker clicked to indicate it was finished cooking. I pouredSami a glass of water, and myself a glass of wine. I grabbed two plates,dished up...some rice, added the Asian chicken and vegetables I'd preparedin the skillet. I put it all down on the table at our places, took myseat and told Sami, "You can move now. Dig in. This is the last meal I'mever going to cook for you."Sami's face was a mask of distress. Humiliation, fear, and yes, angerwere at war there. She had the memories of 3. But... It feels... It makes me... I...”“You love it,” I purred, clamping another clothespin on her tit. They swayed. There were dozens of them per breast. “Don't you? You're just a naughty slave that loves the pain.”Mrs. Armstrong whimpered and nodded her head.“Do you see, Daddy?” Stefani said, her hand grabbing another clothespin. She pinched this one on her mother's stomach between lengths of red rope crisscrossing her torso. “Mommy's just a submissive whore.”“She is,” groaned her father.. More

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