I feel the bark biting into my hands, as I lean into the tree. With each stoke delivered, he leaves fiery streaks across my thighs and ass. In this stance, I know he sees my skin quivering, hears the deep breaths I take as they pass my lips, and senses the true meaning of my pleading. I look behind me every now and again, but will knowing what to expect help ease the pain of every slap? It never does, but it gives me the...