At least at first. She wanted an audience for his reaction. Her clothes were all too baggy to fit her anymore, but it wouldn’t matter once Garry saw...her. It didn’t matter if she was wearing a burlap sack and some paper bags for shoes. He was going to go mad with desire for her. They all were. She slipped past the mirror with one last effort of will, pulled on a shirt and some jeans, cinched the belt a few notches tighter, and headed out the door. At this time of the morning, the streets were. It hurt worse than the crop ever had until the 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 hitting her behind the knee. Then Master stepped back and did something else with the whip. It gave a much. More

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