My legs were still fastened to the spreader bar. I had to take on faith Mistress Flavia’s comments that my back looked “beautifully marked, but no... badly damaged.”When Ophelia got the metal-tipped “cat” in her hand, she swing it a few times in the air to test its weight, and then immediately slammed the steel-tipped leather tails across my chest as hard as she could. I felt like jagged glass was being sc****d across my flesh. My teeth chewed into the black plastic ball gag. She ripped the. Thank god for the magic of Photoshop.Now the aloof Joanne was to visit my repurposed sitting room. With its makeshift workbench made from a door on trestles covered with the paraphernalia of my trade running down one wall. A kitchen alcove off to one side and the remainder of the room furnished with a couple of two-seater sofas at right angles to each other. Into this den, the well-dressed matron was about to make her entrance.A fashionable half-hour late, Joanne was at my door. Dressed in. More

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