She had been back to the Punishment Room for her third visit yesterday and her bottom was still sore from her beating. The Professor had once told her...of a machine that beat people and she had laughed at the notion, thinking it, as she had put it, "kinky". After twelve applications of a leather tawse she had not laughed any more. The memory of that swishing sound, followed immediately by searing agony was still too recent to allow her mind to dwell upon it at any length.Her second visit,. Trust me, it's better this way. I'm sorry.”There was no signature. There was simply a sketch of a pair of lips puckered into a kiss, enclosed in a heart.What the fuck?I didn't even know her name. She didn't know mine. I guess she wanted to remain anonymous. All right, I hadn't expected that, but, well, okay. That was fun. What a strange weekend!By Monday, the roads were well-cleared, although there were snow piles everywhere. It wasn't hard to drive to work. On my way home, I saw her. I slowed. More

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