She pushed the cane rhythmically against Hazel’s stomach. She was following lines drawn on to the skin to outline the tattoo. Hazel was straining to...get free, but she was bound too tightly to be able to move. The butterfly was huge, covering all of Hazel’s stomach, the wings starting just under her breasts and going down onto the top of her thighs, covering her stomach from side to side and extending round her sides. The head of the butterfly was showing just above the gap between her breasts,. That hurt.“What did I just tell you, dyke?”“Stop calling me dyke!” I hissed, glaring up at her. “I don't care how often you slap me—”SLAP!“¡Chingados!” I howled. “Stop doing—”SMACK!My head whipped to the left this time, my other cheek throbbing. The pain burned across my cheeks. I blinked, my eyes full of tears. I couldn't believe this. The fucking little dyke-whore thought she could intimidate me.“You're a dyke,” she hissed. “You're my dyke-slave from now on. Or Mom and Dad will see this. More

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