Stern strapped her hard. His leather kissed the flesh, burned the skin and jolted her far more deeply than the surface. She cried from the beginning as he suspected she would. Her anguished retorts echoed in the clear mountain air as though she was singing them to the world. If she had half a mind to think of it, she might have subdued herself, lest she call attention to her plight. But at the moment her voice was the only way to protest the pain. Her ass and even her thighs took a heavy beating. The red flesh looked raw and mottled. There’d be bruises by morning, and marks left. But he knew she’d love them when it was over.
Ripping into her with dozens of stinging shots, the leather danced as her bottom danced, until he saw how she began to accept, not fight, the pain. Her body was reach
