Then more strokes, this time a different type of pain. This was more a thud than a thin lash. I was yelling for mercy, I promised never to do it again... but still the cane bit into my ass. By now I was pretty much in tears. Then it stopped, And then Gwen whispered through the hood to tell me I had taken 48 strokes. And my last 24 would begin shortly. I pleased with Gwen for mercy, and all I was told was that these 24 strokes would be far more painful than any of the first ones. ‘Then Gwen. I have been traveling a bit. Customer wanted my physical presence rather than using technology so I had to go to New York for a couple of weeks.”“That sounds like fun. You get out much?”“A bit. Found a couple of nice places to hang my hat, and the food was good.”“Great. Welcome home. You waiting on someone?”“Yes. Her name is Robin.”“Runner? About five-eight?”“That would be here.”“You want wine? She only drinks ice water.”“Bring a bottle and two glasses. I don’t trust people that don’t drink. More

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