His soft, firm fingers plashed with so many worlds, even the fake ones. ‘Why do you paint?’ The words tumbled from my lips, and I could only perm...t them to escape. ‘Why do I paint?’ He played with the question, repeating it to himself. ‘That’s the first thing you’ve ever said to me that hasn’t been a stiff response to a question of mine, do you realize that?’ I sighed and became silent again, ‘wait, wait, wait,’ he spoke with an apologetic tone, reaching out to me, ‘I’ll answer you. Painting. So it came as an awfully painful shock to Emma to feel yet another stroke, her head jerking upwards, her mouth opening to let out a loud cry. Hannah Bentner was enjoying caning the two of them this way. Two naughty bottoms, neither sure who was going to get the next stroke, both tensing her bottom, both making herself ready. She was sure that the not knowing was horrible. Even when the cane bit in to the other’s bottom there was a natural sympathy for the other’s pain. As momentary as that. More

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