I knew what to do now, it was my job as an experienced trauma surgeon, for fucks sake. She would be fine. I switched on the engine and began the short...journey back to the hotel. Part 2 – The Girl Fuck that hurt.My wrists are hurting like fuck. My back is hurting like fuck. I'm on the ground.It's cold and wet.I'm cold and wet and burning and my mouth tastes of blood and I fucking hurt all over and I'm so fucking cold. He touches me.His fingers are gentle. He's finished hurting me. I'm sort of. She was just on the verge of having to go on tiptoe. I bound her ankles in a similar fashion to two restraints fixed to the floor. Her body was now a stretched X, completely accessible, and utterly vulnerable.?Let us begin? I said, and started my stopwatch. The seconds started ticking away. ?What is your name?? I began with the first question. Silence.I glanced down at the papers in my hand. ?Christine Spencer? – that was the made up name of the ?spy?. I tossed the papers aside and strode. “It’s you. I want to watch you.” “What you want is to be around me when I have that same kind of sex with somebody else. You want to see me be raunchy and sexy and you don’t care who the guy is. Is that right?” “Not exactly,” I protested slightly. “This is something you have to want for yourself. The other guy has to be somebody you want to fuck. I’m not suggesting you just pick up some complete stranger and fuck him, unless you think he’s hot, sexy and would fire off all your rockets.” “Okay,”. I promise it will never happen again."The look on her face was priceless. This had taken her completely by surprise, and it showed. But she wasn't stupid, and she knew I was up to something, so there was a hint of a smile in there too. But she was also worried because my mother was hopping mad and had sent me to my room. I stood up to leave. God bless my dad, who saved the day."Now Candy," he said. He and Aunt Wendy were the only people in the world who could call my mother "Candy." Her name.
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