But of course there was nothing I could do. The first of one dozen strokes cut into my flesh right across the centre of both cheeks. The second was MU...H harder and bit into my backside about half an inch lower and drew blood as I later discovered. The third crossed the first two downwards left to right and the fourth in the opposite direction. The pain was so intense it brought tears to my eyes and the desire to rub my bottom was beyond belief but there was nothing I could do about it then. Where's the story in that? It was the challenge, the uphill battle, going against the society, the silent and intense rebellion that really interested her. And not too long ago, she decided to write one herself. At least she was going back to literature. An hour later, after re-reading, re-editing, and revising, she opened the website to submit it. She hesitated, as she did countless times before. Who would read it? What if they hated it? Was her username, 'WidowAngel', too obvious? Would. More

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