Or if anyone could ever deny her what she wanted if she set her mind to it. She wondered if free will existed at all between those green, probing eyes...and the soft, insisting voice.New tears ran from her eyes to drip down her brow. She had agreed that she was a slut and to her amazement saying it had relieved her. It felt painful for a minute, like parting with an old friend even if he had long since become a burden. There was guilt of course, but mostly there was a rush of freedom. She knew. I picturein my mind exactly what I did before, tapping the crop gently across my palmfirst, the other palm this time, feeling the springiness of the crop. Slightlydifferent to the first. Do I need to factor that into my calculations? Panicassails me, not about what I am to do, but that I might not do it right. I struggle to control my breathing, so much faster than before. The croprests across my unmarked forearm. How high did I raise it last time. I rememberbringing it down with as much force. More

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