You write quickly, not caring that your handwriting is awful. In ten minutes you've filled two sides of A4 and are still rushing to write everything.
When you've finished Mr. Duthie stares at the papers and they grow to regular size, he reads the carefully not letting any emotion show on his face until he's finished.
"That's all?" He says finally, he sounds really pissed off, "You could write anything and all you manage to do is ramble on about how much you love my ass for pages and pages. What about the rest of my body, what about my strength and my personality?"
You cower as he bangs a fist in the desk, "No all you care about is this?" He turns round flexing the mammoth muscles of his ass, despite yourself you get hard at the arousing sight.
"You didn't even bother to beg for me not to kill you, so take a good long look at my perfect cheeks little man because they're the last thing you're ever going to see." He slides the black material down to show you the full extent of his firm butt, before suddenly he's lowering it towards you at a terrifying speed.
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