Francesca sits up, on the edge of the bed, and slips her feet into her high-heels. The wet thong rubs deliciously between her legs as struts over to the dresser. She looks at herself in the mirror and lazily brushes her hair. She puts down the brush and picks up the bamboo cane, one of the many gifts from Marcel. Four feet long, slim, and very supple. A quality cane.
Francesca turns and looks at her bottom. If she would have been caught there would be painful stripes on her ass, that's for sure. She never gets less than two dozen strokes. She prefers the riding switch, probably because she loves leather. She lets out a sigh and takes off her thong. She puts it into the basket with all the other soiled thongs and panties. All of them are hardened at the spots where her juices have dried.
Francesca puts on a fresh satin thong and goes back to bed. Today there are no consequences. Maybe next time she'll get caught. She imagines how she'll have to arch up her bare ass for the whipping. How Marcel will wait after each lash until she presents herself again, raising her bottom for the next lash. Dreaming about her punishment, Francesca starts to touch herself again...