It hurt worse because of the ball gag and I tasted blood in my mouth. She realized the situation and told me to take the gag off “it’s just making things worse”.After making me drink a glass of water, she resumed slapping me gleefully, each one landing like a whipcord sting on my cheek and ringing a true testimony to her backhand capabilities in tennis. After about a score of slaps and my left cheek turning an angry red, she decided to stop. “Hungry?” It wasn’t really a question. I watched fascinated as she squat on the couch and placed the plate between her legs. She started shitting! “Come over here, I think I might end up peeing also so cover my pussy and drink it up,” she said and I dutifully obliged, discovering that I loved this extreme degradation – stuff that Smriti and Kritikaji wouldn’t have even dreamed of, with their simplistic desires for sadistic pleasure.I gratefully drank the pee, knowing fully well what was coming up next. She finished shitting and looked at me. I. " He waved a note.We had found my Father's definition of my 'personal belongings' to be rather limited. My cell phone was most notably not there. Much of my clothing was but none of my formal kimonos. Not my Dueling Jacket or my deck. There were enough cooking utensils and dishware for a dinner for two. My toothbrush, my soap, a set of towels. Most of my books and notes for school. But interspaced in boxes were notes from Ishtaaru containing recipes, phone lists, and other useful bits. One note had a website address. Another, in Mokuba's handwriting listed all the cheat codes for his favorite video games. In between each code, however, were three of my bank account numbers and their PINs. Honda-sama and I began unpacking more carefully when we found the first note and were retaining the packing materials so I could review them more closely later.When we were done, we sat on the floor, drinking tap water and staring at the line of empty boxes against the wall."Thank you, sir." I said..
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