“Oh, you’re all eager to start,” she willfully misinterpreted my pleading, “but you don’t know what’s going to happen yet. You see, I want...to try to really make the message sink in. So I’m going to give you a nice caning. One stroke for each dollar I spent for the dress. Isn’t that fair?” Again I shook my head. Eight hundred strokes with the cane? She would beat me into a bloody pulp. Tears of desperation ran down my cheeks while I tugged futilely on my bonds. Her fingers touched my cheek and I. What would you do?, he asked again. Oh boy, was I getting excited by the thought. I had had dreams about him watching me sunbathing in the garden, and what he might be doing in his room while he watched me. I had been very much aware of him often. If he was really there watching us now… I would let him watch, I said with a quiver in my voice. And I want him to see you, Poul said. Now pretend that I am not as excited as I am, but that you are trying to get me excited. Take off the top slowly. More

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