I whimper with each strike. He stops.I catch my breath. I see him on my right side now. I shudder. It will be my front now. He draws his arm back and ...trikes, before I can close my eyes. I scream. My right breast is on fire. The crop hit the top of my mound. I cannot help it and look down, to see the angry red stripe, crossing the front of my breast. He pauses, to let it sink. I know the drill; nine more on my right breast; the last three on the sensitive areola and the last one smack on the. "I guess not," I said.We went searching for the old flapper, ready to head home, stopping for more fish eggs. My sister grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne; a magnum of Dom Pergnon costing one of the barons' working stiffs a month's salary. The height equaled her torso. She and the princess headed to the Rolls to wait and to set the cold heavy bottle down.The old flapper and the beautiful blonde sat in my spot in the library still enjoying their reunion. I informed the flapper our desire to. More

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