A PERVERT ROBOT HELPED ME WRITE STRICT JULIE FANFIC!!!

Hi there, Functionals! I started another blog post about a week ago, and it's taken a lot out of me emotionally. I'm still at the shitty home with no movement date in sight. So frustrating! I do have other big news, but I'll share that next time.

What I have done in the last week was find out about InferKit, the neural network that generates further text to continue a passage you give it. It seems to be super smart; it'll generate different continuations even if you put the same text in two different times (or, indeed, countless times)!

I wrote a story starring Strict Julie, as I am wont to do, first letting the robot chip in (or microchip in, wokka-wokka!) and then giving it more words as it built up my trust. By the end Of let the robot write almost half the story, letting it carry on when it was on an interesting tangent.

To begin with I rewrote the beginning of Julie's last family dinner, thinking that would give us room to manoeuvre. I have since coloured the robot's contributions in scarlet. I hope you enjoy it!

Sunday was dinner at Julie's parents' house. They generally got told about all her more serious misbehaviour-based spankings. This is something she felt she wanted as part of her spanked wife status from the start: that extra reality (and, yes, extra embarrassment) of trusted others knowing. Sue and her girlfriend Amanda would be there as well this week. Everyone present would be in her inner circle. Amanda had mainly seen (and participated in) David being dominated by Julie and Sue, but she knew the full story of Julie being a spanked wife as well from Sue. Julie's parents did not know that the three women played with David in this manner; only that Julie was a spanked wife and that David did his best to keep her under his thumb.

Little prima donna that Julie was, when she got to the table where lunch was being served she made a show of wincing as she sat and saying "ouch." There was very little acting required!

Sue knows when her little sister is fishing to be embarrassed by her spankings and took the bait. Right in front of everybody she asked, "Oh my. Look at you sitting. Did you get a spanking just now?"

Julie turned bright red. "Yes, it's true that I was spanked by your husband for being in his way. As you can see," she said, turning around in her chair and showing her bottom to everyone at the table, "he likes to take care of his wife."

Julie's mother let out a gasp of shock; her father grinned but made a joke of partially shielding his face whilst peeking through her fingers. Her husband, David, barked "Put it away, Julie!," and her sister Sue giggled and pointed out a particularly nasty bruise to her own partner, Amanda.

"I assume she meant she was getting in your way?" Julie's mother asked David. As much as she loved her daughter, she had to admit there were times she could be very airheaded, getting confused by things like which traffic lights represented what, whether doors were open or closed, and who was bound by which marital vows.

"That's right," said David, "I spanked her for disturbing me whilst I was watching my spaceships show on the television. Still, I made it up to her later on. Tell everyone what we did that night, Julie!"

Julie blushed and said "Come on, David, I want to hear about it." She squeezed his knee affectionately and smiled shyly.

David waited while the younger members of the household were served their lunch, talking happily about the various upcoming trips and changes they had in store. When everyone was done, Julie said, "OK, then. Let's get started, shall we?"

It was now early afternoon, the group were relaxed, and Julie's nephews had taken their lunch into the living room where they were taking it in turns on a noisy video game. As Julie's mother opened a fresh bottle of wine David started telling about their sexy evening together after Julie's well-earned spanking.

 "Well, Julie was feeling the pain in her bottom, naturally, and was a bit stressed out after a lengthy stay in the corner," David said. "I decided to run her a nice hot bath with lots of bubbles! Well, after keeping her company a little bit she got a little feisty and decided I should get in the bath with her! And, well, Julie, you should tell them what happened next!"

"Ah yes, I was getting her to take off her clothes whilst I soaped her up and, well, as I was shaving her bottom, we got a little carried away," he said, pausing to let his audience of one digest the last part of his story.

"Can we, David, please go on? How did you get her in such a state of arousal?" Sue asked, anxiously taking her own hand out from under the table, where she had been rubbing Amanda's thigh. She was the only one paying attention, the other guests were pretending to cover their ears as David casually revealed how Julie's shapely bottom was hairy enough to require regular shaving.

David took a sip of his wine and carried on, a little annoyed at how Julie was failing to contribute. "I'm not entirely sure; I don't think she fully understands it herself. A spanking always puts her in the mood for sex a little later; I think because it makes her feel seen and paid attention to, and also because she finds it sexy that I could really hurt her, but don't. It's as if she put her body and her mind up as collateral and gambled with her vulnerability, both mentally and physically. And the bet paid off, so she needs to celebrate."

"That's really interesting, David, I've never thought of Julie's identity as a 'spanked wife' quite like that before," said Julie's mother. "Tell us, Julie, do you have any other fetishes  you'd like to tell us about?"

"Oh, yes!" said Julie. "I am definitely aroused by anything that involves a penis; for example, I'm really turned on by having a penis being stroked in my hand. I like it when a man kisses me on the cheek or behind my ear, but really want to make him go down on me too, although I'm not really confident about that myself. I think it's because my own husband hasn't been very good at giving me oral."

David spat out his wine in shock as the other diners laughed at this revelation. "You've never complained before!" he exclaimed, feeling his face go red from embarrassment.

"I'm sure you just need a little course-correction," said Amanda, trying to play peacekeeper as Julie's family howled with laughter 

"I've got some tips for you David!" Julie's father offered, causing her mother to slap him with a napkin.

"Doug!" she exclaimed, a little embarrassed but also a little bit smug. Turning to her daughter Julie once more she said "I'm sorry to hear David's been letting you down. Are there things you've been doing to stimulate yourself sexually?"

 Julie paused before answering, then admitted "You know, I have a passion for oral sex!" she said in a conspiratorial tone to her parents, whispering, but only just.

"Well, if you'd like to find out more, Julie, I can show you the best way to please a man in bed, and make him cum inside you!" her mother suggested as David started to blush again at this new source of amusement for his audience.

"In that case, you'd better let me have David to myself," Sue teased, patting him on the arm.  "Amanda and I can talk you through the finer points of eating pussy!"

"Hang on a second!" said Doug. "What do you expect me to do whilst you're all off giving each other tips for the bedroom?"

Julie thought for a second. "I can't really get David to help me with my hairbrush?" she pondered, her face flushing red in embarrassment once again. "I'm sorry David, you can't come in the shower with me either?

"Oh no," David replied. "This isn't about getting wet, it's about you giving me a quick explanation of your fantasies. I think you'll get a good idea of what makes a woman orgasm when you listen to us."

As he said this, his eyes locked onto his father-in-law, who was looking perplexed. Doug couldn't help but think David had misunderstood Julie's comment about coming in the shower, but decided to focus on the comment she had directed to him.

 "You'd like me to give you a hairbrush spanking, to show David how a real man does it? Well, I can do that, though your bottom looked plenty sore enough! Well, let's do this!"

 He moved his chair away from the table in order to accommodate his daughter over his lap. Julie got up from her seat and took his hand, leading him to the centre of the dining room, her face bright red.

He sat down across from her, and helped her take the pants down off her legs, then watched as she struggled with getting her jeans and knickers off. She was obviously finding it difficult, and he became a little concerned when she just stood there. He realised she must have the same problem getting out of jeans.

He called her over to the sofa, where her nephews were still playing their video game. "Help me pull these jeans off your auntie Julie, please, lads," he said, taking his daughter by the waist. "I don't want to have to remind you twice!"

Her nephews began to tear her jeans, her boyfriend's clothes, panties, shoes, bra, socks and everything else off her body. She hadn't noticed this, having her eyes focused firmly on Doug who was standing by the sofa, watching the activity.

He had an understanding of the realities of puberty, and understood the way a young girl's body reacted to it. His erection had not disappeared. He took a cushion from the couch and thanked his nephews before taking his daughter by the arm and leading her back into the dining room.

Doug sat on his chair once more, put the cushion over his lap, and addressed his daughter once more. "Enough playing around, Julie. If you want me to give you a spanking then this is your opportunity."

He sensed disappointment from his daughter. She knew she had crossed a line by talking so frankly with Sue and Edna about their sexual preferences for others in the living room last night, and despite Jenny's invitation, Sue knew that Jason was not alone when he asked her for 'show and tell'.

Doug held his head up high and delivered the firmest of whacks. "What is there I should give you a little better swat than 'Emily' do," he asked, repeating a phrase that one time he'd heard in a poorly dubbed Swedish film. Julie let out a little yelp of pain. She hadn't realised how drunk and inappropriate she had been at her parent's book club meeting the previous evening. Had she really harassed Edna  about her sexual preferences when they were discussing td works of Douglas Coupland? And why had she agreed to play Strip Poker with Jenny, Jason, and that other guy?

Julie felt very embarrassed as her father continued to spank her naked in front of her closest family. David and Sue were smirking at the site of Julie's naked bottom.

"What do you think I should give you a spanking that might make it worth more?" he enquired as he brought his hand down again. "Oooohhhh!" Julie yelped as she squirmed a little, trying to escape the big hand.

Doug dropped his hand for a moment. "No, no, no. 'Emily' only requires one swat, does she?"

"No sir," replied Julie.

"I think you're right, 'Emily,' you require many more!" Doug said, bringing his hand down hard for a number of spanks in quick succession. "But we're forgetting, you wanted a hairbrush spanking, did you not? Let's give that a try."

 Julie's mother handed him a hairbrush to use on Julie's throbbing bottom. As he applied it to her reddening skin, Julie's face was still lit with anger, but now she was also with embarrassment. Her bottom must have been a perfect red colour. The brush stung like a motherfucker, and Julie yelped even harder.

"Julie, I'm very disappointed in you this morning. I saw your little conversation with Edna and Sue in the living room last night, and it was all quite inappropriate. I want you to be honest with your parents, so if you feel like you want to ask your dad for a spanking any time in the future then do so, you have my full blessing," said Julie's mother. " Is there anything else we should be doing to punish you on occasion?"

"NO, I'm sorry, Mummy," replied Julie. "I just don't know how to get control of my tongue sometimes."

She felt her dad pat her bottom, and said a little awkwardly, "My daughter needs a spanking. I should be in charge of this. My other children also have a curfew, and we have to get up at six o'clock to get to work on time. What do you think I should do about your drunken behaviour last night?"

Doug was gentle as he spanked Julie's bare bottom. He spanked the same spot many times, and Julie's eyes were full of tears. Eventually he decided she'd had enough, and stood up to give her a hug. She gave her mom an apologetic cuddle too, wishing she could put some clothes on.

"Sometimes when Julie's been naughty I punish her by sticking things in her bottom," David volunteered. "Julie, why not list six or seven things you've had pushed into your bottom hole?"

Julie shook her head. "I don't know how to explain that to people." She started crying. "Why did I say that about Edna and Sue?" she wailed.

"I'm sorry, Julie," said David. "I'll tell them that you told us the truth, and that you were just feeling a bit lonely. And there's no need to be embarrassed about talking about something like that with your parents, is there?"

"No, I'm sorry, Mum," said Julie, wiping her eyes. "It's just not something I usually talk about. It's private."

"Well, we're all family here, nobody is going to judge you. Would it help if I told you some of the things Doug and I have pushed up my butt?"

Julie nodded, and David continued, "My favourite was when Doug did an interlude during the spanking, and pushed his penis right up inside me. It was really nice! I think it's quite special that you're talking about these things with your parents, isn't it?"

Julie's mum smiled. "I can think of one other thing you should mention," she said, fingering the bottom of her daughter's underwear. "My son pushed a spade bit right into the centre of your bottom hole once too, and you have a nice scar from where it splintered."

 Julie was shocked, she hadn't realised her father had anally penetrated her husband whilst she was bent over awaiting further spanking. "It is nice to talk about these things," she agreed. "May I get dressed again, or is someone going to stick something inside me?"

"It's a bit wet in there, isn't it?" her mum joked.

David laughed, "Yes, but it won't hurt if you get used to it." Julie asked to be left alone, and went to have a shower. After she had cleaned herself up, she got back into her pyjamas and went back to bed.

"Wow, that was a naughty behaviour, even by your standards," said David. "Julie, I believe that you will need to be spanked again for it."

"I don't know about that," replied Julie. "My bottom is so sore right now."

"It is very sore," her husband agreed. "Is there something else you would rather we did?" 

Julie thought for a moment. "I'd like to have a kiss and cuddle with you, if you're up for it."

David's eyes sparkled. "I'd love that, love."

They were lying side by side, kissing and caressing each other's naked bodies. She reached over and unfastened David's trousers, and gently pushed them off his legs.

"Oh, you naughty boy," David laughed, sitting up to give her his jeans. "Can't let you get them off, can I?"

He pushed them down, and Julie was treated to the sight of the most enormous penis she had ever seen.

"That's my baby," she exclaimed. "It's so big, but it's really soft, isn't it?"

"I know it's big, but I don't mind," replied David. "It makes me feel so happy to see you this happy. And it's lovely to make you happy."

Julie was admiring his penis. It was unusually long for a boy, but not unusually long for a grown man. She also noticed that he was the only man she'd ever met who had very, very hairy balls. She guessed that they would be knobbly, as they were already hairy and hard.

She reached forward and began to stroke them.

"Hey, this tickles!" said David, laughing.

"It tickles a lot," Julie told him, grinning. "I've never felt anything like this before!"

"I know. It's quite exciting."

Julie was revelling in feeling his penis on her hand. "It doesn't really feel that soft to me, I think it's a bit strange," she explained.

"It is strange," agreed David, smiling. "I suppose if you're used to having smooth skin on your hands, then it might be odd to feel my big, hairy, hard balls and surprisingly rough penis. Well, good night!"

 He turned off the light, and Julie lay there naked, thinking about the afternoon she'd just had. One thing was for sure, she was definitely going to sleep with a pillow between her legs!

When Julie awoke, it was still very dark. She could smell coffee and bacon in the kitchen.

"Is that breakfast ready?" she asked.

"It is now, love," her husband replied.

She got up and headed downstairs, still naked. 

"Looks like someone had a good night," Sue said sarcastically to Amanda, who giggled appreciatively. Julie sat with them at the table, helping herself to breakfast food.

They were all completely surprised when David joined them, dressed in tattered pyjamas. "Where the hell have you been, you madman?" demanded Janet

David stood up and smiled at the women. "What are you looking at, you twat?"

He put on a very obvious smirk. "Shove your camera away, woman! It's not even warm outside!"

David headed into the kitchen, and Janet followed him.

"Oi, you're not off the hook that easy, man!" demanded Janet.

David was about to reply when Julie entered the kitchen, as naked as the day she was born. "Who is this woman?" she demanded.

David stared at her for a moment before saying, "This is Julie."

After seating himself at the table, he continued, "She has come to stay until tonight, then she'll be going back to work."

Julie looked at the four of them, smiling in amazement. How did they ever find an attractive single girl without revealing themselves to all and sundry? 

 "Oh really?" she asked seductively. "And what do you suggest we do until then?"

 David smiled, sure that she would like his answer, as would his sister-in-law and her girlfriend. "We are all going to watch a film, then you're going to show us a few of your favourite scenes."

Julie was confused. "A film? Aren't most films performed at home?"

David held up his hand. "No! How can it be performed at home when you film them at your place? I won't let you forget this."

Sue strode towards Julie and slapped her. "You stupid slut, after reading about my own fiancé just today, you couldn't manage to ask him who he was or why he was marrying a lesbian. I can't believe your arrogance! What are you going to do to make this up to us?"

"I think the first thing I need to do, before you come up with any more ideas, is to find the most expensive prostitute this side of the planet!"

A knowing look came over her face as she left the room.

David called after her, "She was real! Have a look at her photos. And how big are her tits, to be honest? Are they big or are you just greedy?"

Sue leaned over and thumped him hard on the back of his knobbly balls, causing him to double over in pain. "Don't let your idiot wife wander the streets of Toronto naked and looking for a prosititute! What kind of an idiot are you!?"

David called after her. "Julie, you don't need a prostitute! Amanda, Janet, and I will do whatever sexual acts you like, on film if necessary! Just tell us what we should do!"

Julie came back. "I know what I want, and it's this: David, Amanda, come with me to our suite. Amanda, leave the porno and copy Pete's stories to a disk."

"David! We'll check the disks before we do anything!" called Janet.

David stood and smiled, looking at his sister-in-law and her girlfriend. Neither of them seemed as upset by his nudity as the rest of his family did, but that could just be because they were naked too. Although he doubted it, the tattered pyjamas he had been wearing were very unflattering.

Amanda put down her porno and set Pete's stories transferring from her laptop to an external hard drive. She went upstairs to join the naked married couple, and Sue was hot on her heels. Janet stayed downstairs, doing some IT work.

"Well, here we are, Julie, naked and in private. What now? " asked David.

"Now, I want to start with some pillow talk." she replied.

David nodded. "All right."

"We're all going to start our pleasuring in this position." she continued. "Me on top. Okay? David, you lie on your back with the pillows under your head. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You'll notice some signs of arousal already, I think."

As she sat down, Amanda hit her switch in her side office. Immediately a whirlwind of erotic films fluttered past her screen: frolicking young girls in stockings and garters, sado-masochistic blow jobs, sweet lovestruck boys reading great literature, voluptuous women in expensive fishnet stockings, and then a crucifix being slowly raped by a hooded headless man.

Julie noticed the moaning boys on the screen, and then gave a shudder. She swung around on the couch so that her upper body was visible for sure. "If I could say just one thing we should all remember after the adventures of the last 24 hours it would be this: the next time I look at my pretty husband, I'm not going to see a sissy man who wants to emasculate me. I'm going to see a man-woman who loves to fuck and/or please. Because this house isn't about possessions; it's about celebrating life together."

Then she gave her loving family a big hug, and fell asleep knowing she must be one of the luckiest girls in all of central Canada.

The End

What do you think? Pretty uncanny in places, right? Bring on the Singularity!

Eat Peace, Motherfuckers! ✌

DOING THE LAUNDRY: STEAMY SUPERCHARGED EDITION

Hello, Function-y Bunch! Hopefully this will be the last time I write to you from Shitbox Care Home PLC, as I am due to move on Wednesday! But before I get to you with the positive things that have been going on I felt I needed to address the latest post from my friend Strict Julie on her blog, titled Doing the Laundry.

I was enthralled reading it. It's a lot darker than most of what Julie writes, and her husband David treats her pretty appallingly throughout, although Julie is clearly responding to it physically and not using her safewords. She's more than capable of sticking up for herself if she thinks a line has been crossed. The scene involves a hand spanking followed by oral and vaginal pentration. Julie is teased constantly for her high libido and for acting like a horny freshman away from home for the first time rather than a career woman in her forties.

At the end it's revealed that the scene had been established beforehand, and that David was playing a part. It's something of a bait-and-switch, but it's a relief to have it verified that David was chasing the game of a scene rather than being monstrous for no reason

Here's my issue with the post, though:

Nobody does any fucking laundry!!!!!

What the Hell? There's talk of laundry that needs doing; in fact a pair of trousers get stained and David specifically mentions they will need to pre-treated before cleaning, but then this tantalising plotline is abruptly dropped! Chekhov would not approve!

The only other mention of laundry comes at the very end of the story, when, after being spanked and fucked or whatever Julie ends with "I have laundry to do."

I don't know if she thinks that by mentioning laundry twice she reaches some threshold for minimum viable product, or if she is just trolling her readers, but I think she's better than this and that she should write with integrity rather than using sexy clickbait titles to drive up her readership. How is this a post about "Doing the Laundry?" Imagine if Waiting For Godot ended with Vladimir and Estragon deciding "We have Godot to wait for!" Ludicrous.

I wrote to Julie in private saying I thought she was above using cheap tricks and gimmicks to drive up her page count, and rather than showing remorse she went through a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth act, pretending she didn't know what I was talking about, and that she wasn't trying to drive up page views. I'll let you, the reader, be the judge, but I think we all know how sexy laundry is and launderers are.

Coincidentally, I happen to have experience working as a launderer! As such, I decided to write a continuation of Julie's story using some of my expertise to help her out. Like all stories involving dry-cleaning equipment, it ended up being pretty erotically charged!

SERVICE, PLEASE!

Still in the shitbox care home. Neither my GP or the local respiratory team would sign off on a sensible plan to move me, just in case something goes wrong on the journey. It's ridiculous bureaucracy; nobody wants to accept liability on the off chance that something goes wrong when I'm at the furthest point from a hospital, even though it's a given that staying put is not an option. I've had to sign a form saying I understand the risks of moving (though really I don't, I just know I can't stay here!) and then pass two mental capacity tests (one set of questions posed by people from either end)! With all that red tape cut I was due to move today, only someone at the receiving end caught COVID, so they can't take new admissions. I feel like Sisyphus' boulder; scheduled to reach the top of the hill aeons ago yet never quite making it.

I have figured out the perfect funeral service for when I do kick the bucket. It's weird to think of the people who know me most intimately not being there, or knowing that I'm dead. Then again, I won't be in a position to care. So I'll try and capture my vision for it here in advance.

I've only been to one funeral, and I don't remember it lasting too long, so I've narrowed it down to four songs and a joke. I think that's reasonable. It wouldn't be a religious thing, but I've included some God stuff for them that like it.

I imagine it would take place in a crematorium. I don't know who would officiate. There would be a photo of me and behind it a slideshow playing of random photos I took on holiday in Portland; the absolute happiest I've ever been. To signify the beginning of the service my favourite song plays: "Another Girl, Another Planet" by The Only Ones.

The officiant would start by apologising on my behalf for making anyone travel, and that I hoped they took it seriously when I said not to wear anything they felt uncomfortable in or to have made any crazy sacrifices to come. They would tell the following joke:

There's a farmer who attends church every Sunday in a small village, but one weekend in the Autumn he realises that the window he has to harvest his crops ready for market is closing, and he can't afford to give up his Sunday morning, so he stays at home and reaps his harvest.

That afternoon one of the parishioners comes up to him and chastises him for missing a service. The farmer replies that he decided it would be better to be out in his fields thinking about God than in the church thinking about his crops.

The officiant would then point out that I hoped nobody would feel sad or uncomfortable at my funeral, but that I would appreciate them finding some time for me in their thoughts in the following days or weeks, as well as for my surviving family.

JULIE'S CHRISTMAS EVE HUMILIATION

 First things first; I'm still in the shithole care home, there is a bed waiting for me in the good one, but the respiratory teams from the two different areas need to sign off on a plan of action to get me there. Should be early new year. I cannot wait!

I've had one episode of hamster heart since I last wrote. It was early morning, and happened a little before shifts changed for the staff here, which complicated things. It took a while to get a nurse to my room, and then she refused to call an ambulance, even though my pulse was at 235bpm! She told me an ambulance wouldn't come for me because they didn't come for her friend Dustin when he had a heart attack. What the fuck? My care is in the hands of a nurse who doesn't believe in ambulances!

I called an ambulance myself, and they asked if I had access to aspirin. I rang my call bell and asked a care and she told me she wasn't able to give out drugs. I told her that I understood that, but to ask the nurse if the house had access to aspirin. The carer went, came back, and told me I wasn't prescribed any. I told her that wasn't what I needed to know, and repeated the operator's question. She went off again, and came back asking to speak to the operator directly. She then said the nurse had given her a phone number that emergency services could call if there were any more questions. She then left me alone, taking my phone with me, and cancelled the fucking ambulance, unbeknownst to me!

Luckily it resolved itself quarter of an hour later, and the day staff nurse gave me my phone back, but seriously, what the fuck?! I was hoping I did have to go to hospital, and to need drugs to stabilise my heart (which has happened before) or even defibrillator (I haven't needed that before, but I came on so close, I signed off the paperwork and the anaesthesist came to measure my throat for a tube; another ten minutes and I'd have been on the table!). Fuck, I'd have happily died in the back of a hypothetical second ambulance if it meant the house would get investigated for negligence, and that fucking nurse had to explain why she turned the ambulance away from a tachycardic patient in her care.

This is the main thing I don't get with gun control, and allowing people to carry a gun around 24/7. I could never do it, because within a month I'd shoot myself in an act of passive aggression. Merry Christmas!

Anyways, between my crazy heart problems, fighting off a new round of cellulitis and my breathing issues, plus depression from finding my sentence at this place had been extended, I've been pretty shattered for the last couple of weeks. I will finish off the whole Stinky Lips thing at some point, I promise!

Anyhow, today's Christmas. I'll be spending it alone, but there's a family Zoom at some point, so that'll be nice. My parents have given me my presents; three scratch offs and these magnetic rings, which are kind of a "fidget toy," I guess? The magnets aren't particularly strong, or fun. Better luck next year, I guess!

Not great!

The other gift I've received is a box full of three random smellies and a flannel from the home. Given that I'm bedbound and need to be strip washed it's not a very sensitive or practical gift. A bottle of bubble bath is pretty much useless to me!

I've mentioned before on here that gift giving is very much a part of my love language. I don't always know how best to express how much I care for the people I love. My brother complained to my parents a couple of years ago that I was going overboard getting presents for him and his girlfriend; my theory there is I was making him look bad! I definitely give more to the few people I do give presents to than I get in return. I don't care; I love finding the perfect thing to let someone know that I see them and value them. I've bought Snowball a couple of presents she seems genuinely happy with, there is more en route, I can safely predict she will be thrilled!

I asked my friend Julie from the Strict Julie blog for an address to send her a present, but she asked me to write a story about her and publish it here instead. I don't know why I'm bothering, with any luck her face is buried deep in her friend Paula's asshole right now, and will remain their until this Epiphany! Still, I thought I'd knock something out for her, and for you reading this! Merry Christmas!

THE BALLAD OF STINKY LIPS - PART 2

 Okay, so I re-opened this smutty behemoth, and the first thing I noticed was it's big. You just won't believe how vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to this shit. If you read the first part, viewable here, then you'll have read roughly 3,000 words. That doesn't include my preamble where I tell you about my birthday, my failing health, and my life in this shitbox care home. If you read the porn element of this post too, you'll have read a further 2,000 words, give or take. If you'd spent your time instead reading George Orwell's Animal Farm, you would be one sixth of the way through it! The same is true of John Steinbeck's Of Mice And Men. Feeling pretty good about your life choices, are you?

Never fear! As a reward to you, loyal reader, I give you permission to outright lie about whether or not you've read either or both books. If anyone asks what you thought of either tome, just say "It was a little too heavy-handed for my taste," or "I get why it's important, but personally I found the message to be a little too on-the-nose." You're now effectively 55,000 words in credit - The Malfunctioner will not be beaten on value!

Today was the last Sunday of the month, so I treated myself to my monthly takeaway. I bought a pizza, and due to Papa John's crazy pricing structure, bought 2 sides and a small bottle of drink as well, because that wound up being £3 cheaper than just buying the pizza! Then they were out of all their drinks, so they said I could have a large one for free next time because they can't give partial refunds! How about just selling the food with an honest profit margin rather than trying to fool our dumb capitalist brains into thinking we're making a great financial decision just because we've ended up with a few thousand calories we didn't want? Why do all these places offer Buy One Get One Free deals and never half price 'za?

What else... Ooh, I saw Last Night In Soho, and while it won't have the rewatchability of Edgar Wright's other movies, it looked great and had some great performances, and despite a couple of creepy images it was about as scary as Doctor Who at its scariest, and less gory than the goriest episodes of Buffy, or the new Chucky TV series. I did love this shout out to my corner of the world and the town my parents call home:

It's an old gag, but it lands well here! As far as I know it's legal to share clips of movies if you comment on them like this, but I'd love a cease and desist, so e-mail me for my address if you're a fancy Hollywood lawyer and want to send me one. The ball's in your court!

WHAT HAS MADE ME HAPPY RECENTLY?

 I realise the last couple of posts have been kind of a downer, and so I wanted to share some things that picked me up during my long absence. Truth be told, I was intending on writing this yesterday, but ended up in a dead sleep for virtually the whole day (they woke me up for meals, I would wake up when my bladder needed emptying, otherwise I slept from 11pm Tuesday to 4.30am Thursday with little else to show for it. My sleep schedule here is erratic; sometimes I stay up all night with a catnap in the afternoon the following day; after too many of those the Sandman takes me off for an extended stay. Luckily, today happens to be Thanksgiving, so that was kind of fortuitous! Yay!

The main thing that motivated me and was the inspiration for picking this blog up again was a self-help book, that had a ton of good common sense advice with examples rooted in world history. It's called the Bible, motherfuckers, and you'll wish you'd read it too when Satan is jizzing hornets up your stretched out asshole with his veiny, three-headed cock.

WARNING: May cause dilation of the pupils, discoloration of the cheeks, mental illness including strong belief in fictional beings and irrational distrust of scientific fact.

Nah, not really! Can you imagine?! I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't really read much more than the regular blogs. And some very text heavy games, if that counts. Because I'm wearing a mask most of the time and lying pretty flat, it's hard to read a regular book or comic. Gaming is better if I've been repositioned on my bed correctly, but the warm embrace of television is there on tap twenty-four hours a day. Maybe that would be a good place to start off my recent recommendations with.

TV Shows

Getaway Driver: This eight part gameshow, hosted by Michelle Rodriguez and streaming on Discovery+, is such simple genius I imagine it was conceived of years ago and technology has only just made it possible, with drones and go-pro cameras making it possible to follow high speed action for little cost. The premise is simple: three drivers take their own cars to a 40 acre compound, and Michelle Rodriguez gives them each $2,000. If they can make it to one of two unmarked exits before being stopped by two expert drivers then they get to keep the cash. If their hot rod gets fucked, well, better luck next time! The two that do best then do it all again at night, with some roads closed off, three experts, and one exit. The fastest to make it out gets $5,000 and the chance to race again the next night, if they want to. It's high risk, low reward, but the racers are generally likeable characters in it for the bragging rights as much as the cheddar. If you don't give a fuck about swearing then I'd have thought it would be great family viewing over the holidays; who doesn't like car chases?

3%: I should probably preface this by saying I like pretty much any scripted TV show or film where players are trying to figure out how to beat a game! And by extension but with varied results how to break out of prison, pull off a con or a heist, cheat on a test etc. I really liked the Sony Escape Room movies the first time I saw them, and enjoy the Saw franchise way more than I should (and the spin-off, Spiral, with Chris Rock and Samuel L Jackson was a delight - a Saw movie with great actors effortlessly giving great over-the-top performances? Yes please!). I started watching Squid Game the day it came out,enjoyed it, but couldn't believe how it caught on!

In one of several "Shows to watch if you liked Squid Game" articles I read about a Brazillian show called 3% that fits that genre perfectly. Fortunately it's on Netflix. A story told over four seasons, it was set in a future where a city was on the verge of collapse as there wasn't enough resources to go around. A Process was established that anyone who turns 20 can apply for, and only the top 3% pass. These Elite people travel by submarine to The Offshore, which is a futuristic sci-fi paradise, with cures to disease, no money, advanced tech, plenty of food etc. The rest go back to The Inland, which is basically a slum. We start by following Process 105 in the first season, but just about every episode has a different game or challenge, whether it's part of the Process or an Inland gang initiation or whatever. Also, big ethical questions are raised, which are also my jam.

GAMBLING WITH MY HEALTH... AND HITTING THE JACKPOT!

 I wrote yesterday that in the downtime since my last post in August "I've basically been doing worse, physically and mentally." The word "basically" really does soften the blow there, doesn't it? Jesus Christ, what an understatement!

Since I last checked in to tell you about my health I've suffered three episodes of Hamster Heart (SVT), mini pulmonary embolisms, right side heart failure, sub-COPS level SAT readings, and weeping leg ulcers. I only found out about this today, other than the bouts of Hamster Heart, which are pretty hard to miss, the home had documented that they'd recognised the symptoms but not told me! Not that I could have done anything about it. Apparently I also go cyanose when I roll on to my side. I've graduated from a CPAP to a BIPAP (if you're reading this Vanessa, you called it!) and am also on 2 litres of oxygen for 16 hours a day.

To borrow another famous understatement: I told you I was ill.

Bested only by Leslie Nielsen's "Let 'er rip.

 A few weeks ago I was visited by the mental health team. As I wrote back in March, I had a meeting with them in February and they came up with a bunch of ideas of how to help me in the room, but then sent me a letter saying: "As your current issues with your mental health are based very much on your situation, we are unable to provide any support until you have made steps towards changing your situation. We feel that at this time your needs are most appropriately met by weight management services and we would encourage you to work with them towards discharge from [your care home] and getting back into your own property. At this point if you are still struggling with your mental health, you can be re-referred back into mental health services."

As I wrote in March, this was a soul-crushing denial of help, a cruel Catch-22. It was like a lifeguard refusing to help a drowning man until he demonstrated strong swimming skills. One of the women I saw in February came back again last month, and told me in the room that I seemed a lot more depressed. She wasn't wrong.

Not only had the mental health team passed the buck, but weight management services have not met me either. Every specialist or GP I've met here has come to the home unannounced; they know I'm not going anywhere and that they will need to liaise with staff before meeting me anyway, so I'm always the last to know. Well, round about September my social worker told me that they'd written letters to me but I'd never got back to them. I explained I'd never received them and gave her permission to give them my e-mail so they could get in touch directly. A month later she asked why I hadn't written them back, and I told her I hadn't had any e-mails either, (not even in my spam!). I asked her to tell them to CC her so I would definitely get them, and that was the last I heard of it.

AMERICA IS A CUM-STAINED HOTEL ROOM...

 ...and Corona is a black light. Not my words, but a tweet from Megan Abram from March 10th, 2020 (well, almost, I inverted it). That beautifully vivid metaphor stuck with me for the next year, as the cracks in society began to appear, and we realised how undervalued and underrepresented certain members of our society are. The idealist in me was hoping that shelf stackers, bus drivers, cashiers, and trash men would be recognised as indispensable members of our community, and be treated as such. I thought at the very least they would make things better for nurses and carers, as the whole country banded together once a week to applaud for them. It wasn't to be the case. The world's billionaires got richer whilst the rest of us thought over the thin end of the wedge.

Readers from outside the UK may not be familiar with Captain Tom Moore, the retired army officer who, in April 2020, decided to walk a hundred lengths of his garden as he approached his hundredth birthday, hoping to raise £1,000 for NHS Charities Together. He raised nearly £33 million (£39m after rebates), and became the Guinness World Record Holder for greatest amount raised for an individual charity walk. He received 1.5 million donations, 150,000 birthday cards, and a knighthood. He contributed to a number one charity single, received the Sports Personality of the Year award, and the Pride of Britain award. A film about him is being produced, and he has been commemorated in postmarks, New Year's fireworks, and flyovers, and has had his name given to everything from trains and boats to police dogs and horses. My grandad wrote to Piers Morgan suggesting the army stop using the word "captain" and use the word "captom" instead.

A motion to increase nurse's salaries was voted down in the Houses of Parliament shortly after, whilst COVID-19 was hitting us hardest. Maybe if we'd shouted for pay rises rather than clapping, maybe if instead of sending birthday cards people had sent letters to their MPs, maybe if we questioned why it took a pensioner exhausting himself for money to be allocated to support key workers, we could have made a real difference.

Captain Sir Tom Moore died a hero shortly before his 101st birthday, having caught the coronavirus while being treated for pneumonia, and Piers Morgan never wrote back to my grandfather.

 "Tomorrow Will Be A Good Day." Sorry Tom, but that's not always true.

Things weren't much better in hospitals across the pond that April. Hospital workers were making surgical gowns out of garbage bags and posting photos of how their faces were bruised from wearing the same pair of protective goggles all day. Refrigerated trucks were being used to store dead bodies. Things were looking grim.

I was still using Twitter at the time, and on April 11th posted a tweet complimenting a host of a podcast I listen to, saying that he does a great job of looking out for the fans and making sure they always get good value for money when they put out merch, paid bonus episodes, and the like. Another listener responded thus:

 "He has given us more than a bang for our buck. I said before he gave us a nuclear missile for our buck. I make Hand Grenades for a living so I am an expert in BANG"

I tentatively replied, fearing I knew the answer: "Have to ask... Are you an essential worker?" He wrote me back:

"Yes. I make products that support Law Enforcement. I have been working a lot of OT lately"

THE BALLAD OF STINKY LIPS - PART 1

Hi Malpals!

So today's blog is going to be a little special! I've taken the role play I did with long-term penpal Stinky Lips, and rewritten it in the third person. I met her on r/DirtyPenPals and have referred to her often, always using my nickname for her. For this story I have changed her name to Liza. I've tried to stay as true to our original collaboration as possible, even the bits that didn't turn out as I hoped they would! All the pictures I added in later. Liza's dialogue and decisions were her own, most everything else is down to me. Not all of it, she threw in some details that I wasn't expecting. She's a very naughty girl! I was going to release the whole thing in one go, but I'm less than halfway through adapting it from dual first person to third person. It's nearly 4,000 and I wanted to post something today, so here we go.

Before we get stuck in, it's been a while and I want to catch up. Things haven't really improved at the home, but my safeguarding officer has apologised for how she came over at our first meeting, has been doing some research on me and the home, and genuinely seems to want to find a better route forward. I said that I'm placing all my faith in her as a catalyst for change, as I don't trust the home in general and certain members of staff in particular, and she seems to understand that.

One positive change is I've got them to agree to wash me in the afternoon when I've had a good chance to stretch out and for my painkillers to do their thing. The downside to this is the water is cold and it means getting cleaned with wet tissues rather than flannels. Why is there not an adequate water heater? Why doesn't the home own enough flannels for every resident to have all they need? Good questions!

Negative: My oxygen saturation levels have been low since the heatwave we had a couple of weeks ago. Way back on the 22nd of July I had a visit from Tissue Viability about my ongoing mastitis. A care home nurse was there too. The Tissue Viability nurse asked if they'd been monitoring my SATS, blood pressure and temperature seeing as they were concerned about possible infection. The nurse said they do regularly check my SATS because of my history of supraventricular tachycardia. I said this wasn't really true - if I suspected I was experiencing SVT they would take my pulse and SATS then, but it was not something they regularly did. This meeting was at about 11am.

The care home nurse continued to check my SATS throughout the day. At 7pm he came to ask me if I had spoken to a GP. I said I hadn't. He told me a GP was worried about my low SATS - around 83 - and thought I should have gone to hospital that afternoon. I didn't know what to make of this information, and figured as it was Thursday evening it was unlikely I'd be admitted on to a ward until early Friday, and then would have to probably stay the weekend. Worried about COVID, having previously picked up C. DIFF and gastroenteritis, and not feeling any symptoms, I decided not to go, assuming a doctor would let me know more information if I needed it.

It's pretty surreal to be told you missed a phone call telling you that you need emergency medical attention, if that's what happened. I stayed out of hospital because I didn't feel unhealthy enough to go in. I have more news there, but I don't want to get hung up on it right now. Next time!

So I've been feeling tired and breathless and haven't done much besides watch TV and role play with Snowball, who, as always, is aces!

The main reason I wanted to post today is because it's my birthday! My parents stopped by for a couple of hours and we played an escape-room-in-a-box style game that I got my mum for her birthday. They gave me a present wrapped up with a chain around it and a different puzzle game I need to solve to find the combination to the lock! They also got me the perfect greeting card showing old school go karts going around a track, only when you open it there's a kart that's bumped into a bale of hay and the corner has fallen off. The text inside is about is even when you hit a bump in the road you have a laugh about it and keep going. I don't know how long they spent looking for it but it fits me perfectly!

My brother and his fiancee sent me a difficult looking movie quiz - No multiple choice, no chance of whoever gets closest, it looks like questions such as "Who directed Cabin Fever?" and "Who played the bell ringer in Rocky?" and "In the Harry Potter movies what does the Hogwarts motto 'draco dormiens nunquam titillandus' translate to?" Definitely see my brother getting ready on the next Zoom call when we play that! They also got me an Amazon voucher and a teensy tiny LEGO set of Captain America, a motorcycle and a Hydra agent.

The best gift I've been able to open came from one of my aunts. I have a large extended family that I don't really speak to, but I got sent a handful of cards via my parents which is nice, because who really cares about their nephew turning 34? However, my one aunt's been self isolating due to COVID contact, so she made a card out of some blue paper and an old greeting card, and enclosed two postcards of old timey streets in Bristol as well as a packet of sunflower seeds, ready for planting next February!

I should note that although 34 is a pretty nothing year - the start of my mid-thirties, I suppose? - I do remember as a kid assuming I'd die by 33, because it didn't make sense for me to live longer than Jesus. Well, I've had a couple of close calls, but they haven't shuffled me off this mortal coil just yet! I'm not saying I'm better than Jesus, just better at not having people nail me to shit. Do what you like with that information.

Well, on to the main attraction! I took a picture from Julie Sploogie's BDSMLR that doesn't look like me or the reference picture I was given but suits the mood nicely! Enjoy!

Dark!

For the sake of clarity I've decided to change the bar owner's name to Earl. It was Tankerton/Tanks during the roleplay, but I don't want my good name besmirched with this filth! Lawks!

I'm going to be honest: some parts of this I enjoyed very much, some of this was me trying to find if Liza had a limit when it came to humiliation and degradation. If she has, I couldn't find it! If this were a porn video I would certainly skip certain scenes! Others I would enjoy very much.

I don't have her permission to do this, so I've changed her moniker, which I'm assuming was fake anyway. Similarly, I changed the reference photo she used, because although it was taken from an NSFW reddit account, the model she used only posts photos of herself fully clothed, and I assume would be horrified to have her image associated with this filth!

Her original prompt has been taken down, but it went something like this:

Hey everyone,

I’m Liza, and I'm looking to do a very nasty and humiliating RP.

I want to get dominated and humiliated by the nastiest men. I have a huge fetish for men’s musk and alphas making me do humiliating nasty things. Bullying, tough, humiliating dares, degrading the loser of a bet etc. Even if what I’m doing is nasty, the humiliation still turns me on, so my dom would use that to their advantage.

I'd like to start a scenario where I am in serious debt and will do anything to earn some cash, letting men humiliate and degrade me. They would pay me to do disgusting stuff, maybe the loser of a bet would have to fuck me, stuff like that. Sort of like Jackass but the joke is always on me, as the sub slut.

I think that's all the warning you need! I answered her prompt in character, so I may as well incorporate that into the story. And awaaaay we go!

-

It was a little after closing at the Beefy's Bar & Grill. Earl sat at his office computer, a desktop from the late 2000's he used to keep payroll, set up work rotas, and surf local personal ads for cheap labour and loose women. He was in his early forties, short and balding, with a beer gut that stuck out the bottom of his stained wifebeater vest and hung over his grubby jeans. He found a desperate plea from a young lady who was down on her luck, so he loaded his e-mail program and sent her an invitation to work for him.

Hi Liza,

I saw your post saying you were looking to make a little easy money and weren't worried about whoring yourself out. I have a bar with a rather rough clientele just outside of city limits, and I'm always looking for desperate sluts who don't mind being degraded for a price.

I have a position that would be perfect for you, servicing my patrons in a special seat by the bar. You would be locked in the stool in a kneeling position with your head sticking out by the seat. Google "kinky barstool" for an idea of my set-up. Customers would pay me ten dollars to sit on my seat, and whilst they enjoyed a drink and maybe some of my famous hot wings you would take their sweaty cocks in your greedy whore mouth and sick them off enthusiastically. If you do well enough they might give you a tip, or a sip of their beer, or let you suck their greasy fingers after handling my wings or my bourbon glazed ribs. Of course, they might be wary with all the jizz you'd be chugging down, and might just wipe themselves clean with your pretty hair. You won't get much of a say in the matter!

The occasional broad might want you to service her, either she's naughty like that or showing off for the fellas, it don't bother me none either way. Better not bother you either; ten bucks is ten bucks, and you had better leave all my regulars happy. I need a slut who does what she's told, if you have a lot of principles then maybe look somewhere else. I don't have a complaints box or an HR department but I do have a heavy wooden paddle.

If that sounds good to you then show up ready to strip off and get started at 5, in time for happy hour. It'll be safest for you to just stay there until closing but I have a diaper I can strap on you so you don't piss all over my barroom floor. I'll keep the first 200 bucks and whatever's left over you can keep - after the first twenty guys you'll be making a pure profit! Just make sure you don't end up owing me, because you won't enjoy that.

If my customers like you then perhaps we'll find some other odd jobs for you to do around the bar, or maybe I can find something for you to do around my apartment. I'm always happy to help out a whore once she's lost all respect for herself!

Earl Botham

Owner/Manager, Beefy's Bar & Grill

Earl powered down the old machine and headed across his cluttered apartment to his unmade bed, which he crawled into after removing his jeans. He didn't think about his e-mail to Liza again for a couple of days; he answered a lot of requests for help in similar fashion and rarely heard back. The chicks that did tended to be bitches ranting about how they deserved to be treated better. The way he saw it, he wasn't the one getting them into whatever shit situation they were in, and sooner or later life turns everyone into a whore or a thief. At least he was being straight up.

He was therefore surprised three days later to find an e-mail from Liza sitting in his inbox. He opened it up and read it.

Hey earl! Sorry I’m late on this but it sounds like a perfect job for a dumb young slut like me!

It irritated Earl that she hadn't capitalised his name. Didn't this cunt want to make a good first impression? The rest of the message was very promising though - no fancy airs, no protests that this was beneath her, no negotiations. As long as this bitch wasn't too fat for the cage or a total butterface then he was sure he could make money off her desperate ass. He could probably get his own dick wet for free as well! He sat down on the metal folding chair he kept by his desk and fired off a quick reply.

Well, you certainly haven't made a great first impression with your tardiness! I hope you suck cock better than you keep time. Let me get a good look at you, if you're not pretty enough to work the bar then there's some lower paying gigs elsewhere. I know a silly young slut like you ain't gonna have a CV, but do you perchance have one of them fancy kinklists I could take a look at?

He headed over to his recliner with a bottle of beer and stuck on some wrestling. His apartment was above his bar, but there was no way he was heading all the way down there to pour himself a pint; he never cleaned the lines so the beer was foamy, metallic crap anyways. His customers didn't care, they came to drink shots and to see his girls; the cheap beer was there to help them pace themselves between shots and to keep them cool in the stuffy, sweaty, smoky dive. Earl sold bottles of beer to the clients that didn't want lager that tasted like piss, and always took a handful upstairs to put in his own fridge at the end of the shift.

It was less than an hour before a noise from his computer let him know that Liza had got back to him. He grinned; it seemed she was more eager than she first appeared! Maybe another lead had fallen through. Well, the more desperate the better...

Yes sir! (Ref pic or description do you prefer?)

Also sorry, not a fancy list

Kinks: Blowjobs, facials, Humiliation, Bondage, Stink torture( sweat,musk,farts), Being face-sat, Being a 3 hole slut, bullying, rimming, cock worship, tea-bagging, ball sucking, foot worship, body worship, ass to mouth, light pain, wrestling, pet play, spanking, facials, cum play/humiliating cumshots, drugs, body writing, public humiliation, water sports, dp/spit roasting, rule 34

Hard Limits: Blood, animals, underage, heavy pain, rape

"Jesus Fucking Christ," he thought, "it seems like I've stumbled across a winner here!" The 'sir' was a big improvement to 'earl,' already this chick was showing him more respect. And what a list of turn-ons! Still, best to let her know he wasn't some cuck pushover.

Whatever's good for you! There's definitely a lot we can work with there, and I hope you're serious about taking a spanking because I think you've earned one taking so long to get back to me!

He got another beer from the fridge, but before he could get to his recliner the e-mail notification sounded again. This time she'd written:

Guess I do deserve a big punishment huh? Lol

She'd also attached a photo of herself; a grinning brunette in her early twenties. Pigtails. Nice tits, though they could be bigger. Not chubby by any means, but not one of those skinny bitches either. Couldn't see her ass, but he bet it was good. She'd be in the cage anyway, so it didn't matter about her dumper so much for now.

He imagined her soft warm lips around his cock, and felt himself chub up a little. The message itself was a little too familiar, he bet she was one of these self-important millennial skanks that screwed around on their phone all day and thought the world owed them a living. Best he let her know what she was in for now...

Very nice! You're certainly front of house material! As for your punishment, I think I'll warm you up with a bare ass OTK hand spanking, and then you can bend over and take six licks with my paddle - one for every 12 hour chunk you left me wondering. That'll teach you to take help when it's offered and to be respectful of other people's time!

After that, me, Hector from the kitchen and Hank the bar back have a game we like to play with new birds - think of it as a kind of initiation. The game is called Leaky Submarine, and how it works is we take your clothes off and plug up any holes we might find. Once that's done I'll strap you in your diaper and put you in my stool, ready for my early bird customers. It's payday at the lumber mill today so I'm expecting a packed house full of rough men with bulging wallets. I'll see you at 5 if you're serious about making some scratch.

Earl.

She wrote back once more, and Earl couldn't help but laugh at her naivete.

Yes sir! I’m happy I made front of the house!

Also leaky submarine sounds like a fun game! Does my mouth get plugged too? I’m sure I’ll learn more when I play the game.

What a clueless bitch! She was going to be fun.

Earl opened his bar up at lunchtime, and it was pretty quiet for the most part. At half past four he was sitting by himself at a table enjoying a bottled brew. An eager young lady bounded up to him, sent his way by Hank at the bar. She introduced herself as Liza and wasted no time at all bending over Earl's lap, flipping up her school girl skirt and exposing her ass in a thong to him.

Earl was impressed by this girl's audacity, and pleased to see her toned buttocks were just as nice as he was hoping they would be. He was sure his regulars would enjoy gawping at them and pawing at them as well. Still, no point letting this young broad go getting a big head just yet.

"Figures a slut like you would be wearing slut underwear," he said, pulling the thong taut in a big wedgie. He unhooked the knife from his belt and cut it through the stretched fabric in one rough motion, exposing what little of her rear it was hiding. Then he went to town on Liza's naked ass, slapping it relentlessly, first one cheek, then the other, then right across the middle, the pattern repeating over and over as her bottom got redder and redder.

At first Liza tried to take the pain in stride, but eventually she felt the stinging intensify across her buttocks. It hurt too bad, and she yelped out loud as Earl continued his assault on her smooth derrière.

"Oh my God, it stings so bad!" she thought, her pussy getting moist as Earl slapped harder still. She let out a tiny whimper that mixed with a guttural moan.

Earl grinned. "Ooh, you little slut!" he teased. "Someone likes it when Daddy punishes their little bottom!"

With two far fingers he explored her damp pussy, and was rewarded with a full body shiver. He applied a little more pressure, and pushed his thumb against her asshole, taking care not to go inside her yet. He held his grip for a few seconds, enjoying feeling her squirm with pleasure, but decided it wouldn't do to start off their relationship in such a manner, and he abruptly pushed her off his lap.

He stood up, leaving her on the floor, and instructed her to crawl back across the room.

Liza did as she was told, sore red bottom exposed, looking over her shoulder at her new employer and licking her lips.

"Very nice," Earl thought, before saying aloud "Place your hands on my bar and stick out your backside for me."

Whimpering with pain and pleasure, she stood up, feeling the effect of his handiwork on her booty. She put her hands on the bar and bent over for him, desperate to be seen as a good girl.

Earl gave her red bottom a few affectionate pats, and nudged the instep of her left foot with the tip of his boot in order to widen her stance. As she waited nervously He could see her pussy shimmer, practically dripping with anticipation. He then took his old, wooden frat style paddle from Hank, and wordlessly rained down six hard blows on her tender young bum.

 Liza yelped loudly at each swat that thudded against her already sore ass, her screaming echoing throughout the building for Earl's other employees to appreciate as Liza stood with her legs spread wide, shaking on the spot and breathing deeply. 

Earl spun her around so he could address her directly. "Well, you took that fairly well, despite your caterwauling! Let's get you in the kitchen for your initiation. The way Leaky Submarine works is: You lie down on the island prep station in the centre of the kitchen. You're the submarine, and me, Hank and Hector are three sailors that have to plug up any holes we find, to stop you from sinking. I'm sure you're used to accommodating seamen!" He grinned at his own dumb joke.

Holding her sore butt, Liza sniffle and tried to compose herself. She followed Earl to the greasy, poorly lit back room, listening as he filled her in on the rules of the game

“Oh, that sounds fun! Do you always play games before work?” Liza asked, stripping out of her remaining clothes once they had entered the grotty kitchen.

Earl was taken aback. Was this girl really as big a slut as she was making out? Was she putting on a show for him, or did she have some wiring crossed inside her fucking head? Still, he answered her question, dumb as it seemed to him. "Only with new hires, on special occasions, and birthdays. This is a bar for hard drinking, rough and ready types, not Chuck E fucking Cheese. Hector and Hank here are going to sort it out between them as to who gets to stick it in your cunt and who has to cram it in your turd-cutter. I'm going to work your mouth, I wanna make sure you have some idea what you're doing before I put you in my barstool and let you loose on my customers. Have a bottle of beer, it's important to stay hydrated."

“Yes sir, I guess that makes sense,” Liza said, taking the beer and sipping from the bottle, not liking the taste.

“At least I get to play this time to accommodate all these seamen!” she giggled, winking at Hector and Hank, as they argued over who gets to fuck her in the pussy. "I hope the smaller dick one gets my ass," she thought, "I’m still tight. "

Earl passed Liza's unfinished beer to Hector, who bent her over the kitchen countertop and poured a little into her asshole. He pushed a finger into her rosebud, withdrew it, and pushed the neck of the cold beer bottle into her winking hole. He moved it in and out, and the men all laughed as she howled and squirmed. After moving it in all directions and pulling it in and out a little Hector pulled the bottle out quickly and roughly, causing Liza to stand up straight and rub her tender back passage. The men all laughed at her expense, and Hector gaves Liza back her half-full beer.

Holding her ass, her cheeks still bright red, Liza whimpered even as the three men found furthe merriment in her discomfort. Her asshole hurt from being stretched for the bottle, and beer dribbled down the base of her crack.

Earl grinned at her, luxuriating in her humiliation. "Finish your drink, and we'll start the game!" he instructed, leering at her.

Her cheeks flushed red as she took the cold bottle that was just in her ass, raising it to her mouth and gulping the nasty beer down. Having to taste her own asshole as she drank the beer, she made a grossed out face and finished the beer as quickly as possible.

"Atta girl," Earl laughed, "you came here to play! Well, hope up on the table, Stinky Lips, and we'll kick off the show!"

“Stinky lips! How rude! “ Liza giggled as she hopped up on the table, seeing Hector and Hank pull their big cocks out as she did so.

"I think that nickname's going to stick," he leered, "I thought you'd at least make a token objection. Seems like you'll do just about anything! Let me know when the boys have found their rhythm, and then you can wrap your stinky lips around my nice hard cock!"

-

Well, that seems as good a place as any to wrap up today! I hope it didn't seem too disjointed, turns out editing is not a lot of fun!

✌   🎉 🎁