Archer I could not have done it. Her looks did not intrude into my thinking. In the fifteenth year of our working together Mrs. Archer changed. It was...’t me, it was her. One day I went into her office and I smelled something. Not the standard office smells but something that got my attention. I handled the transaction that had me go into her office and went back to mine. For the rest of the day I thought repeatedly about what that smell might be. On the drive home it hit me! The smell was. The girl’s knuckles whitened as she desperately gripped her ankles tightly, not daring to move the throbbing target for his cane; four more strokes and she was also free to hobble over to the wall bars. The last girl in line didn’t walk straight to the spot. She seemed mesmerised by the position she found herself to be in. She stood stock still and stared at the master and trembled. He pointed at the floor in front of him and gave her the command to come forward and present herself for. More

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