" I don't have it," she whined, "My business is not good, I have not the money." What business?" I asked."Art, Antiques, Russian Art, that sort of thi...g." she said."A little bird told me you were a prostitute?" I probed, I didn't expect the slap across my face.I staggered back in surprise but then I grabbed her wrist, "It's not true then?"She shook her head, "Ok, I was desperate," she said, "Just a few times, I have to eat." You fucking stupid bitch," I told her, "Why the hell didn't you come. Michael placed onehand against the small of her back, bracing himself. The next few snappedacross the top of each thigh, the tip just licking the inner curve of herass.? Rachel was writhing, bringing herass up to meet each stroke, calling out the number in a staccato gasp.Afternumber seventeen, Michael paused to admire his work. Rachel's ass was nowcrossed with a network of thin red marks. He rubbed the edge of the crop acrossone cheek, then the other. She whimpered, humping the couch. He. More

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