#191570 - ” Almost as soon as the words left his lips, Steven knew he had fucked up. After his meeting with me, he sat and stewed and seethed with animosity. How horrible would I be if I were to be the sort of Mistress who would transport you thousands of miles from your home to a strange land where you knew no one, where you didn’t speak the language, and I beat you for days, weeks even, eight, ten, or twelve hours a day until you renounced your belief in Jesus, until you cursed your God as heathen and, from sheer exhaustion and abuse, renounced your name for one I gave you? I would be one cruel Domme if I were sexually aroused by seeing your reactions as I doused your infected, bleeding wounds with bleach, salt, or anything else I could think of in my wild and vicious imagination.