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Mastercard is it?! You saucy trollop. You require taming to the saddle, I can see that much from here.
And I will put up with none of the oh-so predictable moaning, gasping, sobbing, panting, writhing, scratching, screaming, biting that your sort feel entitled to in these circumstances. No "Oh, my god...oh, my god...oh, my god"... I swear to you, just one episode of this outrageous nail-digging, teeth-grinding, eyes-rolling, toe-curling demonstrations more suited to a kennel than to the games room, and I will put knots on you that you can hide behind for weeks.
OK, that's all for now. Some of this was stolen from Terry Southern, but if one is to steal, who better to steal from? Don't answer that or I'll lift your chin up with the tip of my riding crop and slap you so hard your grandchildren will reel from it. And for God's sake, get the hair out of your face, don't you own a brush? Bring it to me. Now kommenzie hier mit der hosen in der hande, junge!
Now you talk.
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