“Smell the whip,” Jenny says.I toss my head to thwart her; I don’t know why. She seizes my hair and holds the whip under my nose.“Smell the wh...p, pony.”I inhale the smell of leather and pussy, and wonder who the latter belongs to.“You like that, don’t you?”Jenny is stroking me again, her hand flat on the back of my head, her fingers lingering on my ears.“Trot for me, pony.”I obey, and trot up and down the long living room. Parts of it are carpeted, parts wood. When I trot on the wood, my heels. While Katie may normally have some sass to her, she has some body issues.She also absolutely loves makeup. So when I gave her that Sharpie tattooand a butchered makeover, I had unknowingly created a monster. Her tonesuddenly got more threatening than I thought possible: "I know you wereexpecting some teasing and rough sex, and I suppose that will come intime, but before you get anything resembling pleasure some revenge is inorder. You know how hard that tramp stamp was to get out? Well. More

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