After extensive exposure to all manner of disciplinary devices, she had decided that the good old fashioned palm of the hand on her backside or a well...designed paddle was her preference of bottom pounding equipment. She seldom asked her bed partners to scratch her special itch of needing these degrading sessions of harsh treatment. Most of the boys and men she opened her knees for in the privacy of her bedroom were much too conventional in their sexual proclivities and would be shocked to hear. She lit another cigarette.“And Spring is around the corner,” I mumbled. I pulled the collar of my coat up and tilted my head back, studying the slate-colored sky.Felicity flicked some ash off the tip of her cigarette. “Jeez. I heard it’s supposed to snow tonight.”I knew what we were doing—idle, trivial chitchat to pass the time and make the wait (somewhat) bearable. It wasn’t going well, at least not for me. I wanted to pace the slick floors of the halls, I wanted to hear the faint voices. More

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