And so as the endorphins blunt the slaps of Ms. Monique’s exacting hand, the pain of each crop stroke slowly subsides. And Ms. Monique knows it! She in turn slowly increases the velocity of each application. The sound of leather on gelatinous flesh becomes louder!
As trained, I breathe deeply, trying to time the intake of each lungfull with the strokes. A smiling Ms. Monique toys, faking a stroke then executing as I exhale, causing the air to rush and me to lose control of my vocal cords. She is most masterful in entertaining the members, forcing involuntary sounds, which prove to heighten the level of enjoyment of the onlookers.
Finally she stops, seemingly more out of boredom than compassion.
“Would you like to try the cane, Julie? You’ll find its bite to be convincingly deep. The cro
