Even then, in my battered state of incoherent thinking, I knew that stopping was not what I wanted. It would gain me nothing but Jackson’s scorn. I had given him my word just the night before. With all the determination I could gather, I would see myself through the desire, the pain and the pleasure of my submission, no matter what that meant.
With my thighs well whipped, Jackson’s aim returned to my flailed bottom, whipping it with a crop, then a lash, then a different flogger, all before I felt the sting of a whip rise up and cut into my tender flesh.
With razor sharp precision, he ripped at my side, against a shoulder and then on the blistered skin of my ass. Finally, as I feared it might, the next strike of that fiery blade ripped a path between my legs and caught my distended c***
