I know the drill; nine more on my right breast; the last three on the sensitive areola and the last one smack on the nipple. Again the crop falls, and...again I scream; two stripes cross my breast, then three, then four; each one closer to my nipple; each one more painful, my screams more shrill, more pitiful. The fifth takes my breast at the bottom, where it joins my chest, then the sixth and the seventh. Sweat mixes with my tears. I have lost count, but Parker reminds me."The last three" He. Four specialty recliners sat facing the TV. I don’t know what they’re called, but they have cup holders for your beer and a command console was built into the wide arm in the middle. “Sit,” he commanded.He turned on the TV and the football game I’d been watching came up. I felt like I was in a box seat at the stadium. “Nice huh?” he stated.“Where’s the pretty waitress with our drinks and hors d’oeuvres?” I joked.“Maybe you should call your wife and invite her over? She could wear one of those. More

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