Having taken off her jeans, she could not help but eye the belt. It looked like it would carry a lot of sting in his powerful arm. Once more she tried pleading...
Now over you go. I want your bottom out for what has to be done.
The tavern manager ordered twenty five across your naked bottom, pretty wench. Count yourself lucky that it's me and not some fat old drunkard that he assigned to see to you. Be a good girl, raise your chemise and lower your bloomers while I fetch the cane.
General Haynau's men had eagerly suppressed the uprising in Northern Italy. As one officer exclaimed: When a serving wench challenges the archduke's authority in these parts, her saucy arse will well pay the price for it.
a www.posercpart.com (adults only please!) fantasy illustrated story