Fetish boots and Bullwhip: Midnight with Madame Wanda
Picture this, a decaying manor house, grimly clinging to its former grandeur,standing isolated deep in the English countryside, and inside it a dominatrix called Wanda blew smoke rings and admired her skinny behind in the full length mirror nailed to the wall of her modest dressing room. Touching six feet in heels, late twenties, Wanda was a pale beauty with exquisite features, tall and willowy, hardly any tits, with her long black hair tied up into a bun, smokey eyes and crimson lips. She looked good, and felt hungry to inflict pain. Her pussy was already tingling at the thought of splitting flesh with her bullwhip, making the little bitch down in the dungeon squeal for mercy. The boxy windowless room, lit gloomily by a low watt bul