Chapter Twelve
Tanya
Tanya von Meddernich showed up again, unannounced, late one evening while I was busy ministering to a recalcitrant sub in the barn. One thing about Tanya, she was a real ten despite the multiple whip scars on her ass and thighs. These were her husband’s calling cards and he made sure that she was never without old and new marks, usually made with a common horse whip or a stiff, fiberglass-reinforced riding crop that could be deadly if improperly used.
“Tanya’s here,” Penny announced gleefully over the intercom. “She wants to spend a few days with us.”
“Again?” I asked. “Great. Who is she running away from this time? You take care of her and put her someplace where that psycho husband won’t find her if he shows up.”
“Okay,” Penny sounded pleased. “And if he does, c
