My bottom was still red and marked from his strap, but Mrs. Cleanknockers neatly sliced my nates eight times in quick succession. I gritted my teeth and endured. I felt sure she’d drawn blood this time but when I ran a shaky palm over the welts, they were raised but dry. “Disappointed?” I winced. “No ma’am. Thank you ma’am.” She chuckled at my martyred expression. “One of these days I will give you a real caning; enjoy your howls for mercy and then put your clever mouth to work elsewhere.” She hung the cane back up. “See you for dinner.”
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