.cat..crop..cat..over and over. My muffled moans and the loudsmacking of my punishment push my Mistress over the edge, bringing her toclimax quickly i... a single impassioned gasp.As the whipping continues, each woman relishing each ass-reddening blow,Mistress turns my face up to hers and glances at my smeared makeup andlipstick, made sticky by her juices. She stares deeply into my eyes.I almostforget the pain."Does the whipping hurt my poor little slavegirl?" She coos softly."Harder!" She. An hour later, a confusing jumble of phonetic spelling arrived on his mobile suggesting a pub and a time. He knew the place - a boutique bar in the old wharf district with parking out back where he could leave the Cutlass without it being keyed.Donna was sitting all alone on a stool nursing a vodka and lemon in a tall flute. She flashed him a brief smile before tapping the seat beside her. Mick squeezed in and said 'hi.'"Wondered if you'd call," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper, low and. More

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