“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered into the thick, hot air. It must have been the heat from the kitchen oozing into the close room—or maybe just our body heat. After that, he rattled off eleven more cuts in a furious cadence. My body reeled with pain, cries threatening, but never voiced. I climbed the wall on tiptoe, as pain rocketed through my body upward. My ass pulled in in self-defense, my muscles clenched as tight as rocks. I learned later that these taut reflexes only make the pain worse. But I had no time to get used to the punishment, no time to relax, no time to anticipate the degree of chastisement my poor bottom received.
The second the caning was over, the lights went out again.
“Next time, you won’t hesitate, will you?” his voice seethed in my ear. I still clutched the wal
