Quentin pushed his chair back and stood up with the kind of pace and determined intent reserved for his very most angry. Leaving his cards on his table and with a vague "sorry about this" to Terrance he stormed toward Zoey, and clutched her neck tightly to pull their faces inches apart. He snarled his warning with such malice that even Zoey had to remind herself it was a scam.<br/><br/>"You useless, clumsy bitch. What the fucking hell do I keep you for if you can't even pour a fucking drink right? I ought to... " He growled, and pushed her backward. Somewhere in the background her father was imploring Quentin to stop... But he wouldn't. Not until the man played him for her.<br/><br/>"Dress up and pants down, you stupid whore. I'll teach that fat ass why it should be careful!" he was peeling his belt off; this was going to be believable.<br/><br/>Terrance watched in horror as his heavy handed daughter sobbed, and pushed her underwear off her full but brightly bruised backside, and leaned forward. He also watched Quentin coiling the belt up,the man instructing his darling daughter that "I want a thousand 'I'm sorrys', then I'll stop."<br/><br/>There was a crack when Quentins makeshift whip landed on her exposed, plump bottom. He was good, and it sounded more substantial than it was, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt an unbelievable amount. Zoey's wails didn't affect him; until the bet was made, he'd lash her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>