Chapter Eighteen
“This one,” the woman said.
“She’s a fine one,” the man at her side replied.
“I love blondes, you know that,” the woman said. “They do show their marks much more quickly than brunettes with darker skins.”
The man nodded to the valet and Trinket Four was slowly released from a “hands over head” agony that had gone on for nearly two hours.
“We’ll whip her here to begin with,” the woman said. She herself was a brunette, with hair pulled back from her face and fixed in a bun at the base of her neck. She wore a gown that draped deeply in front and back, the inside of her breasts bobbing into view with each move she made. Her rear cleft was visible as she walked with a sexy swish to her hips.
“Grab your legs,” the woman ordered, looking up at the slave on the pedestal.
