He knew the padded bench well, he knew the pain would be intolerable at first, he knew he would cry like a baby as the women laughed, he knew he would...come under the cane in an act of total disgrace and supreme humiliation, offering the women divine satisfaction. He polished the bowl with his tongue and knelt, looking up at the woman who owned him as she sneered down, her breasts heaving in her tight blouse as she relished applying the cane. He looked at her and thought of how he had been. Like my exact weight, I don’t know what I am worth. The figure would vary considerably at any given moment. I am not yet one of the four hundred richest Americans, but I am close. The amount doesn’t matter. For Marx I have too much, for myself I have enough. Even my father is impressed, and perhaps a little afraid of me. And beautiful women do serve. The first image arrived in midafternoon at my Los Angeles home high up on the Palos Verdes Peninsula about ten miles south of the airport and the. More

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