Let's fix her hands to the chain-link fence. Using a short riding crop I happened to have on hand, I start striking her back and buttocks. Grabbing the chain attached to her collar, I snap it sharply again and again. She repeatedly tries to turn her legs toward me, unable to endure the pain. Her desperate excuses—"I didn't do it... I didn't!"—only provoke even harsher lashes. Swinging the whip wildly until it grazes her ass, the wind pressure alone makes her hips twitch forward uncontrollably. Soon, the whip begins landing directly on her buttocks, sending waves of mixed pleasure and pain rippling through her body.