Even blindfolded, drops of sweat trickled its way into her eyes--the desire to wipe away the salty sting halted by the security of her bound wrists high over her head.
For four nights in a row, Master Donovan tortured her. That was the best way Linea could describe their sessions. Pure torture. Each night he bound her hands in a different way--behind her head, behind her back, to her ankles, and above her head.
He attached a spreader bar to her ankles or he secured them to her wrists.
He ordered to her knees, or he ordered her to kneel. He instructed her to face the wall or the floor.
He lashed her back with a flogger. He blindfolded her, gagged her and secured her to the cross.
He slapped her p***y with a crop, again and again until the leather was soaked with her wetness.
He ins
