‘Strip.’ It was an uncompromising word. Dorinda revolted. Having gained the harbour of clothes, and such glorious clothes! She cringed from the th...ught of surrendering to him. ‘No,’ she told him flatly. ‘Please don’t make me.’ Mark nodded thoughtfully and went to the big chest. When he turned he was carrying the black whip, or its twin. ‘Please …!’ Dorinda appealed desperately. ‘Don’t spoil it. We all felt something good at lunch. Don’t make me hate you.’ ‘Terry doesn’t hate me. I whip her. And what is this?" She reached out and grabbed my prong with both hands, stroking it gently as it rose happily under her ministrations. She pushed it down and then bent forward and brought it to her tongue, licked its spongy head and then felt at my stones. "I think you are well prepared," she said, releasing me and rolling back on the quilts, spreading herself open and waiting.I pounced on her and she cried, "Slowly," as I plummeted into her. After a very slow beginning we quickly moved to. More

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