Alma

Alma couldn’t be any happier. She was peeling away Imogen’s pride piece by piece. Now she’d finally got a taste of what was going to happen: everyone seeing her cum face. As she grinned at the sight of Imogen gingerly getting back to her feet, she wondered how wet she really was.

“Come on, Imogen. I want to know if your thong matches your bra.”

“Fuck you,” she spluttered. “Just fuck you.”

“Awwww, don’t feel bad. This time I’m done giving you chances. It’s time to end this.” Alma swiped a card off the top and showed it. “Oh, look, it’s a nine. You’re in so much trouble.”

Alma threw the card down and prepared to charge Imogen the moment the buzzer sounded. This time she wouldn’t allow her to waste any one of her precious seconds. Plans raced through her mind. Should she get back to where she left off? What about another beating? And when should see strip her down to her underwear? So many questions and so many potential answers.

Imogen gulped as she pulled a card off the top and flipped it over on the table beside the shortening deck. Alma’s face fell. The dancer grinned. It was the ace of spades. Alma had lost.

The buzzer for three-and-a-half minutes sounded.