"Oh, fuck, that's nice," Paula gasped from over her head. As Alice worked, she heard other things, too. "You're sure you won't compromise on this?" It...was Matt's voice, so she assumed it was he who pushed her skirt up, her legs back, and tweaked her plug, making her moan. "That's right, Baby Girl," Paula said, her hips swaying. "I'm afraid not," the host replied. "Think of it this way. You're getting your dick wet." "And that's all," Matt grumbled. "I'll make sure you get off." Hands. Again, the motion as she teetered on tiptoe. She understood. She was to dance, he was providing the music. Over and over the whip landed beside her stretched toes with the red painted nails. Over and over she moved them to avoid the sting of the whip. Often she would throw herself completely off balance, and would spin like a graceful ballerina before gaining control, and being able to stop. She danced and danced; breaths became labored as she continued, breathing only through her nose. Her. More

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