“Count,” He said as always. The first stroke of that whip, though, was high on her back. She screamed. It hurt worse than the crop ever had until ...he last blow. “Count,” He said and lashed her across the same place. “I won’t lower the place where the lash strikes until I hear your count.”She screamed again before managing to choke out “One.” She had to repeat “fifteen” because her sobs muffled it, but she was still counting at twenty. She was still counting at twenty-nine, and the lash was. I have always been intrigued by her and have longed to take a look under the hood. She has been divorced for 28 years and has not had a man in the 12 years I have known her. It was her birthday and we had taken her to lunch and were going to the movies after. We got seated in the theater and she ended up next to me. We are waiting for the movie to start and she gets up to go to the snack bar. As she goes by she sits down on my leg. I can feel her mound press against my leg, the heat radiating. More

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