I kept that up until I heard the knocking and so did my wife. She tensed up but didn’t say anything. I sensed some confusion. Going to the front roo..., I opened the door and retrieved the tape recorder. Fast forwarding until the recording of my buddy came on. I played the first few minutes. Buddy: ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ Me: ‘Great’ Buddy: ‘Ready?’ Me: ‘Yes, she is. She is tied up in the other room.’ I had the luxury of recording what I wanted to say when my friend wasn’t around. Buddy:. Instead both mother and daughter were standing next to each other, well bending actually and grabbing a chair each, their bare bottoms presented, stuck right out whenever told to be by Mrs. Denver, and were waiting for six more hard, almost unbearable, strokes of the cane. This was a far cry from the fantasy Jenny had carried for all those years, through her teens twenties and thirties. Her fantasy was being caned but coping easily with the pain, in fact begging for harder and harder strokes as. More

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