The thought of ‘lashes’ going through my mind, pleasure and fear was now co-mingling.She looked me straight in the eye.“I use a leather strap. A...d I use it hard. When I was a girl in Nigeria, that was what you got. The strap. Until you were screaming and your bottom was raw. The only way to make the pain go after was for me to rub myself, and over the years every time I got that strap I knew that half an hour later I would be on my own, rubbing and rubbing myself between my legs.When I came to. He parried and riposted with smiles and glances. Before too long he had her hooked, new evening plans requiring preparation.Fancy dress, he said, and her eyelids fluttered. Costuming and dress-up games fumbled in the walk-in closet, peeking and groping and kissing. The uniform of the well-kept slave rolled over her teasing almond skin, clutching her like a possession of great value.Latex rubber, in deep aubergine, rolled over her toes and up to her novice thighs. Jezebel giggled naughty, and. More

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