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“You’re pregnant?” I nodded. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mother’s joy was unfeigned and unfettered, “I’m so happy for you and Eric!” “It’s a boy.” “Well, you can’t know that yet.” Mother smiled crookedly at me, “Everyone always proclaims it’s a boy, and half are disappointed.” “But I know.” I said, resting my other hand on my belly, “And I have decided to name him Clartias, after his father.” “After your father.” Mother corrected with a small laugh. “Yes, that too.” I chuckled back. Mother laughed with me for a second, then her smile slowly faded. A frown creased her lips when she looked at me, and I stared implacably back. Then cartoon her frown unhinged, and her eyes bizarre went wide, and I saw in their depths the pieces aligning. Every little suspicion she’d denied and discarded, every whisper she’d decided not to hear, every spot of red lipstick on Father’s collar she decided was the result of a shaving error. They clicked into perfect place behind her eyes, and the mosaic they made was of a horror worse than the gallows or the noose. For I’d taken her past, her very identity, and I’d shattered it. God, it was beautiful. “No.” She whispered, unable to give voice to the words. “Yes,” I smiled broadly, “ever since I was fifteen, Father has loved me. Not you, Mother, never you. You were only ever a means to an end for him, and that end was me. I made sure of it.” “No.” She couldn’t believe it, “No.” “The truth is always so painful.” I laughed at her, “Though in your case, I suspect the lie is quite excruciating as well. But don’t worry, Mother, I’m here for you.” I pulled the lever beside the door, and the chain that linked Mother’s wrists to the ceiling grew taut. She was forced upright with her hands overhead, and I made sure to crank the lever until her ankles and wrists were white with pressure. Then I opened the door, and dropped my bag of goodies on the floor before her. “You know, I’ve never tortured someone before. I’ve had people tortured, Hardcore of course; it’s a necessary evil of spycraft, and while it can be gruesome, I’ve found at times that it can also be quite… exhilarating.” I pontificated as I searched my bag, “There’s a sexual aspect to it that people rarely talk about. Oh, people rarely talk about such a taboo subject as it is, but when they do it’s always about the victim. They never talk about hentai the torturers.” I pulled out a knife, and turned to Mother with a broad smile on my face. She just gawked at me, her eyes so wide they seemed to pop from her skull. “The torturers love their victims,” I sauntered over to anime her, twirling the knife between my fingers, “for they give them unfettered truth.” I stopped before Mother, so close I could nearly taste her breath. “Isn’t that all sex is? A desire to make someone react to you with whole-hearted honesty? She let out a long groan as her climax thundered through her body. “If you'd heard of it, I'd be surprised. My hubby suggested we have a look. I think I’ll take a break from the bong for a little bit though, and stick to the wine.” I asked her what her AF was and she said it was about a 6. I told her that mine was an 8 because I knew what was coming. The same force that Dominion had used on the man, he used to throw himself backwards at the priest, flipping through the air. “Imagine Hardcore my surprise when I see your face in that woman’s pussy and then you let bizarre her ride your cock. Out of nowhere he picked her up and quickly carried her over to the bed and like a tackle slammed her body hard against the mattress. She lived only twenty five miles away from John and the best thing was anime that she was drop dead gorgeous, cartoon supermodel standard. Emotions. While hentai on that knee, I opened the box and held it out for Jill without saying a word. She had removed her shirt and bra, just wearing the white linen pants she had on all day. That’s a laugh. He dropped the bag and covered three steps in one stride. I wanted his jizz.