She stops in the center of the room, turning to face her master, eyes downcast submissively. She selfconsciously smoothed the little plaid skirt and tank top over her voluptuous curves, irritatedly buffing a dull spot on her clunky thigh-high platform boots. XXX “M-Master?”
He growls, dragging her to her feet with both hands. She whimpers and digs her fingers into the brick, gasping with every lash, moaning low in encouragement as he traces her curves with the flail, the soft leather soothing her burning skin before suddenly cracking across her back, driving her chest back against the rough brick. She shivered a little in the winter sun, but the cold had little to do with it; this would be her first session in ages, and she ached for his brutal ministrations.
