His hands sliddown to touch the whip on the floor."Yes, Master. They are beaten," I said, moving off the couch to kneelbefore him, my head down and pa...ms up in submission."Did you eat the pastries that I sent for you?" he asked again, slowly,his fingers curling around the whip."No, Master," I replied. "The girls stole them from me."He stood up, picking up the whip."Turn your back to me, hands before you," he said, calmly. I did as hecommanded quickly so as not to upset him again. I could hear. When we spent every moment of those summer days that we could outdoors until we were required to be home for dinner, and then we were back out again, riding bikes around and around the neighborhoods to the very edge of dusk, until that quintessential small-town America parents’ curfew: the street lights coming on. .:.September: the sky was a brilliant blue, that kind of pure, perfectly rinsed blue you see in early fall on cloudless days, the clear cobalt prelude to brassy October. I had. More

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