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“Take this stupid fucking dildo off, you fucking idiot,” you laugh, ripping Sartre’s strap off of her pelvis. It lands with a dull thud on the ground. Now that she’s completely nude, you slide the whip end of your rider’s crop between her legs, placing your other hand on the small of her back. You run the end of the whip down her stomach, coming to a stop at her vagina. Sartre’s eyes open wide and she begins pleading.

“Monsieur, s’il vous plaît! Not zhere! Anywhere else!” she cries, dropping flat on the ground. You grab her roughly by her hips and pull her up to her knees, her top half prone resting on her face.

“Rule number two,” you growl. “You do not talk back to me under any circumstances.” You cock the whip back and swing with ****, stinging her wet pussy with the end of it. Sartre shrieks in pain.

“OWWWCH! MONSIEUR, S’IL VOUS PLAIT! ARRÊTEZ!” she screams, crumpling to the floor. Deaf to her cries, you grab her by her hair and whisper in her ear.

“If you fall one more time, I’m gonna whip you for twice as long,” you growl. “On your knees.” Whimpering, Sartre pauses before assuming her earlier position. You raise the whip up to your mouth and lick Sartre’s juices off the end of it.

You swing the crop at her pussy again. The tip makes contact with a loud *CRACK* and Sartre cries out in pain again, although this time she stays upright. You proceed to flog her pussy with vigor, beating it raw and red with your whip. Sartre’s cries soon give way to pathetic whimpers, as she accepts her place in the room.

Satisfied with your ****, you grab Sartre by the hair and lift her up onto her haunches. She gasps in surprise. Standing behind her, you grope her titties violently, roughly kneading your hands in her bouncing, sweaty cleavage and picking at her nipples. She arches her back submissively and looks up at you.

“Monsieur, you are in control,” she states, looking up at you.

“I fucking know I am, slut,” you laugh. You pull your cock out from behind her head and rest it on her face.

“Non, non, Monsieur, you misunderstand,” she murmurs. “Control of your actions. Our last semen sample was taken one hour ago. By now you should be a crazy ‘maniaque,’ as we say in France. You are cured, Monsieur!” You guffaw loudly at her suggestion.

“Sartre, where do you think you are right now?” you chuckle.

“In a patient’s room? In zhe finest hospital in zhe United States?” Her suggestion sends you into a fit of laughter.

“Close, close, but not quite. Let me tell you about myself Sartre. You see, a was in a car accident, and I died. Literally, Im dead.” Her eyes widen at this revelation. “But, I saved someone’s life doing so. As a reward for my good deed, I was placed here, in blowjob universe. Every person in this universe’s sole purpose, is to pleasure my cock with their warm, wet throats. YOUR sole purpose, the entire reason you’re here right now, is so I can fuck your stupid, cheese eating, face.”

Confusion and disbelief spread across Sartre’s face. “Non, I went to school, Monsieur, I have a degree! I went to school, I have a family, I have memories!” she cries.

“All of that lead to this moment, where I fuck your throat like it’s a cheap sex toy,” you mutter menacingly. You place your hand under her chin and cock her head back, before placing the tip of your penis at the entrance to her mouth. Without waiting for a response, you thrust all 10 inches of your cock into her mouth.