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Foreplay in Rawhide
Shall I be there too fresh wounded, your latest prisoner, displaying your captive mind, with conscience her hands bound behind her and modesty all love’s other enemies whipped into line.
-Ovid, from Amores
"I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake".
-St. Paul in his letter to the Colossians
I walked, well, strutted really down the corridor. My buttocks shivered with the impact of my step, it was visible through the gossamer fabric of my chemise. A shiver of humiliation wound it’s way, clutching, up my spine, blooming at the finial of my neck. I shuddered. The Ladies and Masters turned their heads, some grinned with a bloodlust smile, knowledge roiling in that wise delta like a warm tide.
A good person would not want this; a good person would be afraid. I had tried to be good, once, and failed. By this time, however, I knew myself better and reveled in the forbidden pleasure of being bad, suffering my punishment like a reward. I...
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