Get on the floor! Nose to the cement. Not like that! Slowly. Yes. Okay, now I want you flatter than Kate Moss. What? Kate Moss! Yes the Calvin Klein model! No questions until you have passed out, sore-cunt.
Take one hand, stretch it in front of you. Now the other. Like fucking Superman! Wait, I want your left hand on your ass, yes on your left ass cheek. Fuck it, I want both hands grasping your ass like a vice.
Take your tongue and lap the floor. It's a fucking iron gate. Lick until you find China.
Do you understand why you are making love to the cement? Are you aware that you are living this, this very minute on the rigid earth for a reason, puss-face?
This is the first moment in your hubris existence that takes you lower than primordial dwarves. No longer will you feel the wind brushing your ass, tits standing ovation for fucking God, or your button nose directing a personal symphony of drivel complaints. You are here, on a mission from one person, and I will throw you a bone.
He is not going to answer your prayers.
Today is the first time you are no longer secure. You are a miniscule thought in the back of a fourteen-year-old terrorist punks porno collection. You have now become the left over flakes from his chaffing dick after five hours of masturbation with the dog. There is no maid. No full-service from your slave pool.
You have hit rock bottom, my sweet liver toxin, and not only are you sound enough to endure this torture through all your sobbing, you are going to gradually relearn what it means
To be an expert sex worker.
Welcome to Prosti-tution. The finest private escort/stripper training service in the world. Your education will begin in this basement. Consider this to be your worst, ergo most enlightening month, ever.