I tuned myself to Jackson. I heard his footsteps on the bare floor, and the sound of his breathing when he was near, and the beat of his heart when he stepped very close. I could smell his breath, as erotic to me as the rest of his being.
All the while, his throbbing c**k beat in time to the rhythms of my aching p***y.
At last, the crop came raining down against my ass as a warm up, and then against my back where it seared the skin. It quickly had me struggling in the confines of the hated pillory. I stamped my feet like a wild mare, angry when I was startled by the shocking pain, then aroused when Jackson paused long enough to run a delicate hand over my tortured flesh. He backed away again and ripped into my ass, my back and then even my breasts, rapping upwards against the hanging orb
