What was the worst she could do to me, whip me? I nolonger feared her whippings. The pain I could handle, it was her I couldnot. I felt I hated her w...th every fibre of my being, more than I hatedsin. She was evil, pure evil, and I wished it had been I who had floggedher, even if it meant that I had to receive twice as much, it wouldstill be worth it just to see her crying and writhing under the smack ofthe leather strap. Indeed, as time went on her whippings became almost routine. It. He turned and smiled back and raised his hand in a quick wave before moving on down the road. For nearly a minute I stood staring after him and to this day I can not really say exactly why. There was just something about him...My name is Karen Shepard and I was fourteen at the time. We had just moved here three weeks before from the city where I had been born and lived all my life. There we had a nice three bedroom house on a nice quarter acre lot in a nice neighborhood in a nice suburb.. More

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