“Ow! It hurts, Mr. Jones! It hurts!” Becky squealed.
“That’s okay. It feels great to me and that’s all that really matters,” he said, pushing his cock into the
“But… but what about me?” she whined.
Mr. Jones sighed. These young girls were always so entitled.
“You don’t matter. Didn’t your mother teach you anything? You’re just a set of holes for men to fuck. You exist to make men cum. Now, tell me you understand, thank me, and call me Sir.”
“Ye- Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you, Sir.”