It always got to me. "It's great to see you, Shaun; where's my mom and Tim at?" she asked. "Dad had to work late and your mom is out doing some grocer... shopping. Apparently she's making your favorite meal tonight, lucky you," I said. "Don't act like you don't love spaghetti. I know you," she said. "You're right, but... welcome home, I guess. How has college been?" "It's so fun. I've made loads of new friends, and had a lot of fun," she said, as she winked, "You're going to love it after next. Looking over my shoulder I see you raise the big wooden spoon again. Yelping like a punished a****l the blows fall over and over. Sometimes to my arse cheeks, sometimes to the soft flesh of my thighs, sometimes in the tender spots at the back of my knees. Not being able to anticipate where the blows will land only seems to make them hurt more. You see my hands balled into fists on the small of my back and the futile clenching of my muscles, as if by doing that it will hurt less. Instead it just. More

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