Chapter 11
Little Sister
Stana drove us a couple of times across the wide lawn. Turn and about. Back and forth. Naomi set the pace, much more rested than me and those flat boots much easier on her feet than the spike-heeled torture set on mine.
“Yah, yah!” Stana called. A long dressage whip, soft and feathery at its end which made the growing number of welts all that much worse, cracked against our collective backs and asses. Naomi squealed through the bit. I just grunted. That’s all I could manage, due to how wiped out I felt after what happened with Hayden.
Hayden. The very thought of that man seared my gut. f*****g bastard! I’d get him! Suddenly, I found the energy to not only keep up with Naomi, but also set the pace. The greatest motivator in the world fueled my new get-up-and-go:
