." Harry blinked. He was greeted by a shapely woman, wearing a very, very thin silk robe. She smiled saucily at the sixteen years old boy."Hello... Ha...ry was it?" She asked in a soft tone. "Won't you come in?" I uh..." Harry nodded dumbly and entered. "Um... Don't you have some... Uh... Gardening for me to do?" Oh, yeah, right this way..."After showing him what to do, Rose went back into the house and made them a big pitcher of lemonade. Harry saw her returning with the big pitcher. It was. Mr Pickering however, had been nicknamed ‘the interrogator’ due to the lengthy pauses between strokes as he questioned or lectured his victims about their behaviour as they writhed to their anguish. As the fifth stroke bit deep into my buttocks it was swiftly followed by the sixth and seventh. I felt some solace amidst my agony that I was now beyond the halfway point. In true ‘no-nonsense’ fashion the remaining five strokes were administered quickly. As one stroke followed another, I barely had. More

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