Either way it worked, I felt much better than I would have if she had cried. Maggie caught an elevator up to say goodbye to her friends while I walked into the bank’s rear parking lot. Maggie would be headed home after her last drop. I sat in my tiny hatchback trying to decide where I would spend Christmas eve. I, sure as hell wouldn’t be spending it in my home. Truth was that it hadn’t been much of a home for years anyway. The cell phone rang as I started the ten year old Ford Festiva. ‘Hello,’ I knew just as soon as I said it that I had done it wrong. If I was going to answer it at all on Christmas Eve, I should have used the company name. ‘Sammy, this is Beth. I hate like hell to do this but I am gonna have to cancel our lunch tomorrow.’ She didn’t hate it as bad as I did. Beth was my sister, lunch at her house was the only holiday plan I had. With the loss of that, it appeared that I was gonna be one of those lonely looking men in the cafeteria line on Christmas day. I almost. An eternity later, once she finally seemed satisfied with the decoration,she stood and observed my tortured form - and added three more to grip mytongue and keep it dangling out of my mouth, one more piece of torturedmeat. The entire front of my body was a pulse of pain, throbbing witheach thump of my racing heart. She simply smiled, licked her lips, andstepped behind me.I screamed when the first stripe of the whip landed across my back - awet, drooling, mumbled scream. It felt like pure fire, a stripe of vividpain, like the lash had cut into me. It was followed soon after byanother. And another. My Lady built up a rhythm, slow and steady, andwith just enough variation to keep me from knowing when the next slice ofpain would come, not to mention where.The lashes hit up and down my back. They generously marked my ass. Thebacks of my thighs and calves burned as they welts rose on the tightmuscled flesh. My Lady had even been so thorough as to bend down to makesure that the soles.
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