Mrs Watling could see the bottom in front of her beginning to shake involuntarily and the slaves voice half screamed half sobbed out the number of the...stroke, but it made no difference, she was enjoying herself, it was starting to make up for the loss of her sailing, the vicious caning persisted until the sixth stroke had landed. The slave was now sobbing like a child, thin red weals criss-crossed his trembling bottom like a coarse spiders web. The whole procedure had taken less than five. ’ She was standing right in front of me now. She reached out her left hand to my shoulder and said ‘Well, you were, weren’t you?’ All I could do was look down as she slid her hand down onto my breast, cupping the flesh and brushing her thumb softly over my nipple. She pushed me back against the cool tiles and moved her face towards mine, her right hand sliding down my flank and onto my hip. I tried to squirm away and started to tell her that this was wrong, but my words were cut off as her. More

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