Wait in the lounge.”Abandoning her stunning wardrobe on the kitchen floor, she obeyed. Her light flicks had once stung, but tonight her riding crop ...ould inflict profound pain.Passing their locked discipline cupboard in the upstairs corridor, she fetched its hidden key. They'd added her riding crop to their implements. She ran her fingers along the smooth black leather shaft. It must bite her flesh, burning its worst.She descended the glass stairs and switched off the lights. In her white. “Dirty slut whore,” he spat, then slapped the same cheek again. Harder this time.Even then, she recovered her balance in an instant, but her own left hand went up to the resulting burn. The coolness of her massaging, open flat palm offered some relief to the sting.“Oh, he hits me much harder than that,” she said back at her husband, speaking her words slow and deliberate. “Much, much harder. But I don’t care, because it means he’s going to rape me. Rape me good, Clive. Rape me for hours.”He. More

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