Chapter Twelve
Caroline’s ass was sore for days after their last session. But it wasn’t punishment alone, or the soreness, or the stripes that she could see on her bottom when she looked in the mirror that kept her mind obsessively fixed on Max Burton. She remembered being on top of the rosewood desk and his body entangled with hers. The slaps, the pinches, the wincing, the texture of his skin, the fit of their hips locked against each other, and the fullness of her cunt impaled by his c**k were instant aphrodisiacs. He’d so thoroughly penetrated her conscious thinking and her inner soul, that there was not a moment of her day when she did not sense his presence close.
Every day she painted; the darker nature of her inner creator splashed across the surface of her work with remarkable en
