He let out a sort of half-assed hmph at the sound of her gratitude, as though not giving her much credit. It had been slow, and not sounded entirely heartfelt. His hand cuffed the side of her head just hard enough to send it canting to one side for a moment. "Next time you will be both quicker and more genuine in your gratitude, or it will be another cause for punishment." He had something long in his hands; a crop, or cane, or something equally painful. She knew this because he used it to tap the top of her thighs. "Hands in place. Now." There was a casualness to his tone that somehow screamed that he quite frankly couldn't care more about her sobs and wails. "Did many see you with your mouth ful of semen, Slut?" Again he sounded strangely conversational; more curious than cruel, though his words were obviously picked to cut at her pride.<br/><br/>With that he turned away from her and wandered past her to shut the door, then across the room to sit behind his writing desk. He lifted his pen - a sort of mechanical quill that didn't require dipping, and held the ink inside it - and  returned to standing over her, before wagging a finger to invite her to her feet. Once she'd managed to coax her aching, screaming body into lifting her back up - breaking the deadlock on her knees - he did two things. First he swatted the top of her head, pushing it downward. "If you get to stand, Slut, you look at your feet unless I tell you otherwise." He gave the words half a moment to sink in, then continued with a "Now..." before pushing the nib of the pen to one of her tits. She could feel it half-roll, half-scrape over her flesh as he signed his name upon the top of one of her tits.<br/><br/>"Everyone who you coax into coming should mark their name upon you. Give them the pen once you've swallowed one of their loads. Understand, Girl?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>