I do not know how I got through those last six strokes. The pain seemed to make a kind of roaring sound in my ears. My whole body shook and my bottom felt in flames. At one point, unable to stand it any more, I tried to move away, but the Count put one hand firmly in the small of my back to steady me, and continued with his work. I think on the final stroke, which was the hardest of all, I screamed out loud. I fell to the floor, curling up into a ball, weeping pitifully.
The Count gathered me in his arms and laid me on the couch. He sat beside me, stroking my hair, murmuring soft words to me. Gradually I grew calmer. He caressed the back of my neck, then kissed behind my ear.
“Such a good girl,” he whispered. “Such a very good girl. You should be proud.”
In some way I did indeed feel s
