Chapter 13
Observing that Mike Forrester had dutifully fetched the required riding-crop and saddle to play horsie-horsie with, Merle Kimberly plopped down on her bended knees, in keen anticipation of the thrilling debased pleasures that were soon to come for her.
Nevertheless, even at that, involuntary chills of dire awe coursed through her vivacious being, making whole rashes and crushers of goose-pimples seep out all over her svelte, creamy flesh.
Merle took particular cognizance at the way the straps from the saddle and the lash of the riding-crop itself dangled down and moved about lazily -- as if they were actual snakes that were lazy and dormant, but alive -which, indeed, they soon would be in Big Mike's strong, unruly, most capable hands!
Forrester placed the brunt of the saddle
