”“Was I? Was my tone or body language aggressive? Honestly?”“Maybe not.”They drank more beer and continued talking.“Can I show you somethi...’ in the house,” asked Woodtick tossing another can.“Sure!”“This is my den.”“Okay,” Fredrick took in the confederate theme. “What are you showing me.”“I’m not a racist, but I want to celebrate the heritage of my people.”“I don’t understand.”“I had ancestors that fought for the South. They didn’t own no slaves, but they fought for their home.”“I get that you. Then the pace steps up and the impacts get harder, each strike delivering a harsher sting than the last. You whimper a little as the sound of leather tails slapping your breasts becomes louder and louder. They’re burning so much now you know they must be getting red, but the strikes keep coming, keep getting harder. Just as you think you can’t take much more, that the next one will leave you begging for mercy, they stop. You stand there panting, recovering from the pain, as my hands softly. More

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