Betsy felt herself imposed upon. She felt shamed. She was deeply shocked at the flashing pain so far worse than she had dreamed…. Each stroke brough... a break in position, a declaration of Independence, a refusal to continue, remonstrance. Comments from the crowd were constant. Few flattering. But, one by one, each under protest, Betsy paid her eight strokes. Immediately they were done she dragged on the garments she had been f***ed to relinquish, and with stoney face, looking neither to right. "I guess, if you won't admit that it wasn't ****," he grinned, "I'll have to demonstrate my point to you."His fingers fumbled with the button momentarily. She felt the top of her blouse suddenly loosen and knew he had been successful.Again, he reached up and grasped her chin and jerked her face toward him. His head lowered and their lips met again, pressing a little harder and lingering for a second or two.Repeating his movements, his fingers drifted down the softness of her neck and down the. More

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