“Lay it on, Louis,” she squirmed deeper into the sheets, extending her arms above her head and widening her legs below, closing her eyes.
The riding crop ripped across her thighs, then her belly, then fired off another blow against the same sensitive skin on her stripped breasts. Each pained gasp lured the man’s erection from its slumber. Jarred loose, it demanded its say—though not before Madame Renee Duvalier was euphoric from the pain.
Her zealous replies incited him more. He whacked her at will, connecting mostly with her thighs and undulating belly. “Turn over,” he ordered.
Renee instantly obeyed, having expected the command. He was holding back as most sensible men would do. Too enamored with her beauty to permanently scar the sensitive tissue, he understood her back could take
