Telling her how I felt with nothing to back it up wouldn't help anything.She had gotten out of her chair and was standing at the side of Daddy's desk ...hen I went back into his office, as if her being closer would have some effect on the outcome of the phone calls he was making. I went up to her and put my arm on her shoulder. She glanced at me and gave me a halfhearted smile, then turned right back to Daddy as if she might miss something by looking somewhere else. I squeezed her shoulder, then. He imagined she had to spend hours at home coming up with new, ever more demeaning epithets for herself. The rule was the answer always had to include the fact that she was stupid, but if she could not come up with a new word after that, the stroke did not count.?I am a stupid fucking bitch, Sir.??I am a stupid cumbucket, Sir.??I am a stupid mouthwhore, Sir.?The litany went on and on. He did not even count, but just kept on hitting her cunt that was swollen, but still drenched in her fluids.. More

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