Earthshaking Events
I’m bound tightly spread-eagled by heavy ropes of fine white silk – quite an expensive indulgence in these times of declining treasury. Though the huge canopied feather bed is normally as soft and comfortable as lying on a cloud, the relentlessly rocking pressure crushing my buttocks into it is exhilaratingly painful. The skin of my ass is whipped raw and the muscle of it deeply bruised by endless swats and slashes of paddle, riding crop and coachman’s whip. Though my wrists and ankles are also abraded raw, I can’t help still wrenching futilely at those ropes. Seated astride me wearing only black boots and elbow-length gloves, a skimpy matching corset crimping in her midriff and a narrow black mask bound about her eyes, Lady Abigail is crying out with breathless ecstas
