It always seemed like he was kidding. Except this time, it didn't seem that way.It started with him fake-seductively asking for a "tit massage" becaus... his pecs were sore from his morning workout. He was quickly rebuffed that that was no fun, because tits on a guy (if you call them that) weren't an erogenous zone. So then he asked if he could get a dick massage instead.Now it was one thing when he'd cracked that joke in high-school study hall the day before. Except now he was joking about. The welts on my buttocks deepen. The pain multiplies and the pleasure intensifies. I rub my bottom. It feels as though it has been torched. I'm weeping.Now, she'll demand that I pray forgiveness, I'm certain, as I wipe away my tears. I know the mantra so well: Mother Mary, forgive my sins; Mother Mary, forgive my sins.sister Emily sets down the cane and leans beside me against the desk. She is panting from her exertions but also, I suspect, from excitement.'What do you have to say, Flora?' she. More

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