Knowing that my actions have betrayed my empty gestures, I feel like the cheap, pathetic little faggot that my Master labels me, and then begin to cry...silent tears as his laughter becomes louder and more sneering."Oh no, bitch," he tells me, "You’ve already graduated way past the "make me" stage. You couldn’t get enough of me, could you, my cock-hungry little faggot" he taunts, taking a hefty, wet tool and slapping me loudly across the cheek with it. "And now look at you, cum dribbling from. "Ellen? What on Earth..." His voice tailed away. I could have laughed. Theway that high, righteous anger drained so abruptly from his face: one momenthe quivered with rage and the next he was reduced to slack incomprehension.His wide, bloated body sagged."Cancel his afternoon appointments, Ellen," I said to the receptionist."He'll be meeting me, where he saw me last. Won't you, brother? On HungerHill."His mouth worked, but no noise came out."Why don't you call the police now, Ellen?" I. More

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