1The Impossible GirlThe steady slap of polished wood against bare skin left Billy unusually dissatisfied. He increased the pace: thwack, thwack, thwack.
Momentarily the flesh tensed before settling again into softness. Knees and hands remained rigidly planted on the bed, and a toss of long blonde hair indicated he should continue.
Under the action of the paddle, a vivid red splotch had bloomed, the same color as the high-heeled shoes that protruded over the end of the bed. The mark became angrier each second and grew slightly as the skin swelled.
Billy peered at it closely, his nose almost touching the shapely bottom. He could have sworn it was taking on the shape of a country he recognized. France, maybe? No, not square enough for that. Spain?
He moved back and slapped the oddly shape
