The Professor had once told her of a machine that beat people and she had laughed at the notion, thinking it, as she had put it, "kinky". After twelve...applications of a leather tawse she had not laughed any more. The memory of that swishing sound, followed immediately by searing agony was still too recent to allow her mind to dwell upon it at any length.Her second visit, following her disobedience in failing to stand still had been easier than either the first or the third. On that occasion she. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she stammered. “I am so dead. That’s it – I just shouldn’t ever go home.”She stopped and looked at me and then the tears started. Oh Christ, I thought, not tears, please not tears. Nothing can reduce me to a pile of mush faster than tears.“Lady, do you want me to call the police to take the report? You do have insurance, don’t you?” I asked trying not to look at the runny-nosed mess she was becoming.Her words came out in hiccups. “Please. Please don’t. My. More

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