Sally hit me on the right cheek with as much force as possible. There was a loud smack and a definite moan from me.
“You probably noticed that I’m not using a gag tonight. I want to hear you cry out and scream, and maybe even beg for mercy when it gets really painful.”
I nodded my head and took the remaining twenty-three strokes without making a sound. But when the riding crop landed in that thin line between my thighs and my buttocks, I moaned and fought back a scream.
She just laughed, “Trust me, slave. You can’t fight it very long.” Then she continued with the crop, striking me viciously across both cheeks with an even dozen. She spaced it out, hitting me about every two minutes until she was finished, giving my nerve endings a chance to work and register the pain they were receiving
