Chapter Eight
A Frolic With Freckles
“Absent thee from felicity awhile, and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain.”
Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act V, scene II
I was getting much better at this whipping business. I was applying that three-tailed tip exactly where I wanted it on the small, willowy body of Fiona, the petite Irish secretary.
WHACK!
“YIE-E-E-E!” I had chained her wrists to the ceiling, her arms vertical beside her head. I left the long ankle chain on her, allowing her slender legs to jerk and flail with each strike of my whip, dancing out a nude ballet of woe.
CRACK!
My whip lashed across her jiggling buttocks, adding yet another crimson line to their sweet roundness.
“YAUGH!” She flung her head back, gritting her teeth, her head shuddering. “Oh, please sir! Please sto
