A punctured gasp slips through your lips. Then another. And another. Your breaths grow ragged, your nails digging into the palms that house them as you grip the strap handles against your own weight and Frost’s actions, clutching like you’re trying to hold on to your sanity even as you feel it slipping between your clammy fingers.

Your eyes follow the crop as it slowly glides over the curve of your outer thigh, trailing to the back of your knee, then elevating to your calf and shin. Your toes stiffen into points, your feet arch impulsively when he brings the head of the crop to rest on the sole of your right foot. The slow motion under your foot makes it tickle, causing your ass to clench and your pelvis to jerk forward again, throwing off the somewhat consistent hold you’ve briefly managed to gain on the Kegel. Tension ripples through you, warding off the motion under your foot as perspiration gathers on your brow.

A sharp sound cuts through the air suddenly, your voice leaving you before you even realize it to join it. The dull sting against your sole signals that Frost just struck it. The pain is sharp but fleeting, replaced by a dull throb that quickly fades into an intense heat. You whimper as Frost brings the crop down on the same spot again, harder this time. The heat blossoms outward, igniting nerve endings you didn’t even know existed and sending shivers up your spine.

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