The Squire never hit twice in the same place and the slave never broke or missed the count, but her entire body was beginning to shake and quiver as t...e count approached ten. The last stroke was almost as loud as a pistol shot, and a slight trickle of blood oozed from the square welt, but the slave still merely grunted and said "Ten. Thank you, master." As soon as the Squire laid the crop on the floor at her head, however, she broke into deep, but silent sobs.The squire dismissed the French. Drops of sweat ran down my forehead mingling with tears every push forced out of my eyes. He craved for my body. He squeezed, caressed or spanked any part of it within his reach. I straightened my hands and leaned on them. In a second I kneeled. He stooped behind me. "You are a definition of motherfucking divine," Azem gasped as he pulled my hips against his boner. "Why didn't I meet you fifteen years ago?" "Because I was only five back then, you perverted lunatic!" I choked on my own. More

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