At the end of our road was a corner shop that sold just about everything, the proprietor was a Mr. Hassan, He was Indian or Pakistani, quite old and a...bit fat, bald headed and he had a gray mustache. I didn’t like Hassan, he was sort of slimy and when I was in his shop. he always use to stare at my legs, I knew my school skirt was a bit short and in the last six months I’d gotten taller, mum was going to get me a new one but she just couldn’t afford it at the moment. Mum had an account at the. Long hours of practise allowed '7' to walk confidently, trusting my directions to guide her, responding to each touch of the crop. Leaving the dungeon we followed the route up stairs and out into the gardens. The feel of the sun upon her skin obviously welcome as she almost pranced, eager to enjoy the warm spring morning and the zephyr breeze that teased her skin it's touch reminding her of her nakedness and total exposure. The lesson lasted all morning, pausing only briefly to allow my girl a. More

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