“Mistress,” she said firmly, reaching for the cuffs. “From now on, you shall call me Mistress, or you will feel the sting of my crop.” Ha! The...sting of my crop. Nice – she’s really getting into this role-play thing. Without warning, she whacked my hard-on with the business end of a black riding crop. Where the fuck did that come from? “Yes, Mistress,” I grunted through clenched teeth as she closed the cuffs around my wrists and secured them to the bed posts. As soon as I was secure in. ..and you of all people should know that!" Grace whispered harshly the scar on her hand began to burn. Not wanting to draw attention to herself and Sam, she slowly started to type again on her computer knowing her best friend was going to put up a fight. "Come on," Samantha began her arms had stopped flying about. "It has been two years! What happened was not your fault you couldn't have stopped it if you tried!" Sam was the only one Grace had told about that awful night and she was being to. More

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