“Put your hands behind your head!” Britta snapped.
Although dazed, Robin managed to lace her fingers at the base of her neck behind her and open her elbows the way the mistress wanted. Her t**s had almost completely popped out of the corset, and her n*****s were rock hard. Robin didn’t bother to look down at the previously marked flesh. In a moment, Britta would punish them more—marks like these were Britta’s trademark, what Robin had to put up with to get the rest of what she needed. The next day she would look in the mirror at her wounded flesh and remember being so submissively degraded. She would masturbate just thinking of the harrowing savagery. She would open her blouse to revisit her wounds, and tell herself that as bad as life was on the other side, these moments with her mistres
