She smiled over at Wendy, who simply nodded at the lady with the shoulder-length dark hair. It was her signal to thrash his already bruised and swolle... bottom.The French Mistress paused and contemplated where her first swipe would land, and once satisfied, she took her thick leather belt over her right shoulder, took a deep breath and sent her nasty piece of leather hurtling towards Peter Mitchell’s already battered bottom.“Crack!”That first stinging stroke bit deeply into his right buttock. He. Again I protested butshe insisted and went on to pull up the sagging stockings and fasten themto the suspenders.Joanne then picked up my boxer shorts and stepped into them and thenpulled my trousers on.Standing there in her dress with stockings pulling against the suspendersshould have felt ridiculous but instead I found it felt wonderful. Iglanced in the mirror and did not see myself as a parody of a girl but sawmyself as a woman in a sexy outfit.Joanne was giggling beside me and I turned to. More

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