Arielle Lane bends over the back of the couch for the unbearable sting of the whip. Her pretty toned dancers bottom is framed in her tutu, covered in the skimpiest thong leotard. The lash paints angry red welts across both of her pert cheeks, wrapping around. Her pretty face contorts, shrieking in pain as she clenches and gyrates under the heavy whip. Her ordeal is far from over.
