She gazed from racoon eyes, the liner smeared down her cheeks, a portrait of lecherous defeat. “Say it.” I hissed. Her red lips parted, each breat... a labor of ecstasy, each exhalation a cry. “You win!” She mewled, her expression supplicant and lustful, “Now fuck me like you hate me!” I removed the chain that bound her ankles to her wrists, spread her legs, and held her upright against me, her bound hands forced upward behind my head by the chain that hung from the ceiling. Prestira’s back. ‘I have the antidote,’ she said, and pressed her lips to his, in a reviving kiss. His strength renewed, Bill ran his hands up her back to cradle her head while the cure was administered long after the pain was forgotten. When his knees began to hurt on the concrete floor, he helped Faith up, and said, ‘Ahhh, I feel much better. You must be a princess.’ ‘It’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone. I just couldn’t let you die. You’re too much fun.’ She patted his butt. ‘Wow!’ Bill looked around,. More

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