Chapter Eleven
The Ex
Dawn Flynn
Mrs. Smith’s words faded away, her voice almost raw. Other voices mumbled as Mrs. Smith’s red rimmed eyes swiveled back and forth. Then the confessor untied her from the chair, strung her back up and whipped her anew harder than before. Mrs. Smith twisted about under the whip’s savage kisses as the chains glinted in the half-light. Goose bumps rose on my skin as Mrs. Smith vainly tried to dodge from the whip. In her eyes terror transformed to hysteria.
The whip paused. A new voice, a man’s I think, said something about “one last chance”.
Mrs. Smith shook in relief, a far cry from the confident, mature woman who had enticed me back to this SM hideaway.
The whip lashed out, a suddenly uncoiled leather snake. Mrs. Smith howled. The whip’s thin blades bit
