I have that answer once Michael starts to lash my ass. In rapid succession the switches criss-cross the delicate flesh. Bold. Merciless. Everything I expect from a man so cold. I can’t help but writhe on the hump of the tree; so that my punished ass must look like it’s full of c**k and f*****g. In a few seconds time, however, I’m too hurting to think about how I look.
“Please, Michael, stop!”
That turns out to be a useless plea; the thrashing only gets meaner with the blows like fire raining on my ass.
“No…no…” sobbing, my whole body heaving in misery.
Again they strike—no time to absorb the sting. I’ll be lucky if I get out of this alive.
The pain goes on forever until I’m sure he’ll never stop and as I scream into the trees, I can hear my own anguish coming back on me.
Delirious wi
