“You wimp,” Deanna teased, big grin upon her face. “Is that the best you’ve got? Cuz it’s a shame that I’m going to have to give you a serious beatdown over that piece of shit you call a spanking.”
Disgusted, Megan stuffed the sock back in and gagged her again. It seemed hopeless.
“She’s not going to break,” she told Ron.
“I know,” he replied grimly.
Suddenly, Megan got an idea. Being nasty wasn’t working because Deanna was used to it. But what about the opposite? Taking a moment to compose herself, Megan lifted Deanna from her bent over stance and placed her on a sitting position atop the pool table. She then began to gently stroke the girl’s hair and face. Deanna flinched and tried desperately to get away. It was as if Megan’s hands contained some kind of alien ooze and not soap and skin cream.