She was wearing only a tight pair of white boyshorts and a tank-top. "Morning babe," she whispered. "Mmph," I mumbled. Glancing at the clock, I saw it...was only seven thirty -- far too early for a Sunday. "What?" "I want you to work out this morning," she said. "You need it. You just don't get enough exercise." I sighed, but I knew better than to argue with her when she used that tone. "Alright mom." She smiled. "Ok, great. Let's go." I followed her downstairs and was taken aback when I realized. "Open your eyes," he commanded.Simon did so."Get up."The boy stood, trying to cover himself discreetly with his shirt. His eyes met hers once, and his face flushed with shame. He turned to the floor.Henry shoved a chair in front of him."Bend over it," he said.Simon, still trembling, looked at first from the chair, then to his master. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew he could do nothing about it- but he spoke anyway."Master- please. Please don't let them hurt me."The words were. More

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