Christina sits before me, a picture of calm, as I tremble in anticipation of the harsh spanking to come. I attempt to quell my fear with a cigarette, but my hands shake and my eyes betray my apprehension. Christina, amused, asks if I am afraid, and I admit that I am. She finds my trepidation entertaining and shows no mercy as she secures my hands to the wall with chains. I am trapped, with no choice but to submit to her will. Christina commands me to consume her feces after 30 strokes, a demand I accept with a mix of fear and curiosity. I wonder what she has eaten and how large the pile will be.
Christina takes pleasure in whipping me, watching me squirm and writhe in pain. She revels in my suffering, and I am powerless to resist. Despite my fear, I endure the 30 lashes, each one leaving me breathless and begging for respite. Christina takes delight in focusing on the same spot, increasing the pain and pushing me to my limits.
Once the spanking reaches its crescendo, Christina turns her attention to using me as her personal toilet. She relieves herself, urinating and defecating on me, and I am forced to consume every last morsel. Christina stands tall, commanding me to lick her fingers clean as I lay beneath her, humiliated and degraded. Yet, despite the degradation, I am powerless to resist her will, a mere plaything for her to use and discard as she sees fit.