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own stinging welt. This left her halfway over, and he pushed her the rest of the way with two rapid slaps to her breasts, raising dozens of red welts and making them shake back and forth.
    “Please, sir, I’m sorry,” she wailed, hastening to get on her back.
    Caden hit her belly several times and once let the strands snap between her legs.
    “You need to do as I order, when I order it.”
    Anna curled herself upward with a shriek, folding around the intense pain between her legs.
    When she opened her eyes, Caden’s stern gaze filled her sight. He pointed a rigid right arm at her, his finger directing her to the center of the ottoman.
    She nodded, staring at the whip, and put herself back in position. The ottoman was firmer in the middle than at the edges, so the effect was like being recumbent on top of a small hill, with her belly and pelvis pushed skyward. Her pussy still smarted from Caden’s recent punishment.
    “Please, Mr. Morning, I’m going to faint if you hit my front again. I’ve never handled pain well and I can’t tolerate any more. You’re going to kill me.”
    While she pleaded, Caden Morning grabbed her left ankle and with a Velcro strap from his case, secured her limb to the stubby wooden leg of the ottoman. He did the same for the right. The straps held her legs in a broad Y shape, forcing her bare sex to protrude obscenely.
    “You’re going to be safe like this. You won’t lose consciousness lying flat with your head lowered, your brain will get plenty of blood this way. And my little whips won’t kill you, they’re designed to give a great deal of pain while leaving nothing but minor scars.”
    Scars! What if what he does leaves me marked all over for life?
    “What do you mean, scars?”
    Standing over her with his diminutive, mop-like whip, Caden shook it, puffing its strands out like the ropey hair of a reggae singer. “These are short and narrow strands, which will leave modest welts even if I use my full force.” He slashed it in the air, making a whistling sound. Anna cringed, her ankles pulling at the plastic straps. He set the martinet aside and pulled two other wicked looking leather items from his case. Both had black handles, tapering toward one end.
    “This one is a crop.” Caden brushed her right breast with the end of the device. “See how this tool has a flat bit at the tip there?”
    Anna nodded.
    Caden rubbed the coffin shaped tip on her, making circles around her nipple, making her gasp.
    “The crop will leave moderate square welts. It won’t break your skin and scar unless I get carried away.”
    Caden snapped the leather tool in the air, making Anna jump. “This will feel like a tiny hand, spanking you hard.”
    He put the contrivance aside and hoisted a similar object. This one had a short, braided tail at the end.
    “This is a dressage whip. Unlike the little slapper of the crop, this single strand at the end will strike in a single line.” He traced his finger along the wicked braided leather. “It’s a tool designed to get the attention of a thick-skinned horse.” He trailed the whip’s tail along the curve of her belly. “Some have said the dressage whip is like a burning hot wire when used by an expert.”
    Caden Morning traced a path with the single-tail on down between her legs.
    She tried again to pull them together but the straps held. When used softly, the single tail of the dressage whip tickled.
    Some have said? How many people has he hit with this whip? How does he clean the thing?
    “How many people have you whipped like this?” Anna gasped.
    “I do what’s needed to enforce company policies.” Again, he seemed to read her mind. “Of course, I have my whips professionally cleaned each time I use them.”

ten
     
    “Neither of these will cause a great scar, though the dressage whip can make a welt that might scab over.”
    He lifted the whip and ran the tip over her shaking lips.
    “If your welts turn scabby, don’t pick at