She, 23, dark hair with fake tan, voluptuous body with lots of curves, but NOT fat, and oh that chest. My wife, Sandy, 29, more fair-skinned, got call...ed into work last minute, leaving Michelle and I at home. She has always been one to keep to herself ever since I had known her. She stayed in her room then came downstairs and said she was going for a bike ride. She came back an hour later, flushed and drenched with sweat, and I heard her go upstairs and turn the shower on… I said okay, this is. My mother would be ashamed of her daughter, a proud mountain woman, to be caught so easily, but I had fallen to the vile wine of the lowlands and was weak.I strain and flex my muscles, testing the bonds and the resilience of the sailors again. Since I stand just shy of six feet with muscles made iron by years of hunting and playing in the wilds, I almost break free but before I could do so a hard pain envelops my skull. The thick mane of golden locks cushions the blow, but I am still dazed as. So here’s the thing, she wants to meet you” he said with a wince.Silence.A little more silence.He listened very carefully. Is that her breathing?“Cindy? Hey, you there?” he asked.Softly he heard “Uh huh.”“So, you okay. You know, meeting my sister” and ever so softly “and her family?”“Uhm, okay. But, what about, you know, will she say anything? To your Mother?”Shaking his head, as if she could see him, “No. Jane and my Mother, well, don’t really see eye to eye, you know, on some things. Well,. When the fucking suddenly it stops, Candy thinks it might be over, but Sir's hand still holds her face down, so she wonders why Sir has stopped, and what will happen next. She doesn't have to wonder for long. Candy's only warning is a whistling sound in the air before a line of fire explodes across her arse cheek – once, twice, three times the blows fall before she realises what is happening: She is being caned!"Please, Sir, stop. I'll be good! I'm sorry! It hurts! Oh, God, how it hurts! I'll.