Marsha has broken out of a safe but boring relationship and is about to propel her journalistic career to new heights when she receives word of her Aunt Connie’s unexpected passing. Connie’s Will leaves Marsha a sizeable fortune, but only if she can locate her Aunt’s precious and very special riding crop. Her quest for the whip will compel Marsha to confront her fears, gather allies and delve into the depths of her sexuality.Marsha reads her Aunt’s letters detailing numerous escapades centering on the whip, escapades full of bondage and domination with more than a hint of sado-masochism. In one letter, “George is an amateur body builder. He is short (56”) but stocky. His muscles are well developed and well defined. George likes to pose for us while we recite the Latin names for his muscles from Grays Anatomy. Ive taught him to wear tight-fitting briefs and to oil his whole body before posing. He had trouble applying the oil so I had to demonstrate… That day, I was absent-mindedly watching George and contemplating rubbing his middle muscle until it was fully tensed. But that would have been an enjoyment too easily obtained and too quickly consummated. Instead, I tied his wrists to his weight-lifting bench…” Throughout her exploits, Connie lashes, and is lashed by, her magical riding crop.Marsha, and new-found friend Sheila, attend a game of poker which ends up going far beyond the tease of striptease and they are soon hot on the trail of the missing whip. Marsha engages private investigator Peter and romance starts to simmer between the two. Sexpot Sheila seduces anyone with something dangling between his legs, but pawnbrokers especially.Robert emerges from the shadows and gives Marsha important information about the missing whip. Marsha suddenly has two men vying for her affections. One speaks love joyfully to her heart. Robert introduces her to the thrills of submission:I stood in front of him. Beige bra. Beige panties. Several years old. Frumpy and unappealing. But there was no disapproval in his eyes. In his eyes was frank appraisal, lust, mastery, anticipation.He walked around me, inspecting. “Do you give yourself to me, fully and freely?”I nodded.“Say it,” he demanded.“Yes.”“You will permit me to touch any part of your body.”I began to nod, “Yes.”He was behind me now and his hands squeezed my breasts through my bra. A stronger squeeze than for pleasure, but not so strong it hurt. “And you permit me to penetrate any part of your body, including with any part of my body?”“Yes.” Please! Please penetrate, please— What was happening?! And why did it feel so right, so good?“If you speak, it will be only when spoken to.”“Yes.”He squeezed harder. “Yes, Master,” empathizing the last word.“Yes, Master.” Master?!?Marsha and Sheila attend a rough and raunchy leather party, females-only invited. Lying in the middle is a man with an extremely large phallus, his erection being aided guests dipping their hands in oil and massaging up and down his shaft. There’s a reward if one of the ladies can induce him to ejaculate… Sheila submits to bondage and Marsha enjoys being fondled as party becomes orgy. They think they catch a glimpse of the missing whip.But Marsha is not the only one with designs on the whip. Connie’s crop is part of a vicious matrimonial battle and must remain hidden for the husband to prevail. Another party, one unafraid to employ violence, is also searching for the whip.Will Marsha find the center of her sexuality? Will she fall in love; and if she does, will that be enough to fulfill her destiny? Will she honor her aunt’s legacy by finding the whip? Or will her undeserving cousin scoop their Aunt’s fortune? If she locates Aunt Connie’s crop, will she realize its potential?