The cane fell every ten or twelve seconds, working not just my rump, but my thighs as well. After just ten cane strokes, my face was a mess of tears,...runny mascara and snot. Erik knelt down beside me, as I rested during the brief respite between sessions. I could see him stuffing my skirt into my black purse. In his hands he also held my Identity Card. ?We’re going to head off now. Oh and your card is empty too. You are going to have to ask daddy for more money I guess.?You cannot spit. ’ ‘Do you mean that talking, and therapy, such as counseling, couldn’t help?’ ‘You don’t get it, Jan. We were high school sweethearts, and we fell into the trap of thinking that we should get married, because it was more romantic. We should have made sure that we were more compatible. I don’t think that we are.’ ‘Well, I just don’t get this. I have been very happy in this marriage, but you haven’t?’ ‘Nope. That’s the problem. We’re too different. You’re happy with missionary-style sex, as long. More

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