He whirls around, holding what I can only describe as a psychotic pinwheel. No, it’s a circular scalpel, but instead of a blade, it’s covered in over a dozen sharp pins. “Yes?” he replies with a tiny smile. I notice three important things at once. One, there’s a bulge in his pants that indicates he’s about to do something he enjoys more than getting his cock sucked. Two, in his other hand, he’s holding something that looks like a miniature rake. Three, he’s no longer chastising me for speaking without permission. Sweat breaks out across my skin, and every nerve ending tingles with trepidation.
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