The nineteen year-old dreaded the pain that was coming but she no longer had any choice but to accept it. She was committed to suffer. Her senses were...never keener. She was aware of everything. She never felt more alive.Hermione’s bottom quivered with tension. Air burbled in the form of waves of cramps of apprehension ricocheted through her tummy. Every breath was deep and loud in the office.“Really, I’m gonna take a caning!” Hermione screamed to her conscience.How could she have dared to ask. I was fine and took my time, feeling divine. I had tightly curled blond hair that gave me a pixie look, me being only 5 feet 2, and eyes of blue, coochy, coochy, coochy, coo. I was by no means thin, but most men savored the curvy meat I had to offer. My legs were long for my height, with great curves and small feet in ballerina slippers. And I loved to skip along the street singing ditties to every man I met. Or the women, come to that. I loved tickling pussy. Yours or mine. Mine was a tickled. More

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