After months of communication I finally had her, my 19 yr old Colombian mail order bride. Or as I called her in my head, my mail order slave. I had wooed her online with minimum effort which was good for me because I've never had much luck with women. All I had to do to get her here was promise that she'd never have to sleep in a powerless, waterless, roach & rat infested hut those people called homes ever again. I was a gentleman of course. I picked her up from the airport with red roses in hand and took her out for lunch, pointing out the things in my city. Even with little sleep she was wide eyed & excited, leaning forward in the passenger seat holding her small duffle bag of clothes. Her entire life in a gym bag. Then I gave her a tour of her new home. Showed her the kitchen that had a stove and not just a fire pit. The bathroom with a shower head instead of a bucket. Then finally the bedroom.
My Mariana. Thin frame, tiny tits, small ass and her halfway down her back.. Everything on her was so little, I loved it. My little Mariana. So small I could snap her in half. We weren't married yet but.. Close enough. She was here now. I took her bag from her as she stood there shivering and pulled out her passport, put it in the safe for "Safe Keeping." I had her where I wanted her now. She was all mine, I could do whatever I wanted.
I slapped her. SMACK.
"Take your clothes off." I demanded.
She stood there with her hand on her face, frozen.
I slapped her again and then started pulling at the thin strapped sundress, "I want this off."
She put her hands up to block me and I slapped her again. This time so hard that she fell onto the bed.
"I don't understand." Mariana said in a thick accent, her voice quaking.
I pulled my belt off and held it in my hand giving it a little shake, "Last time I'm telling ya." I say.