When he at last finished the kiss, he put his hands on my naked breasts, and when I started with a terrified gasp of intense shame, he eyed me intently and said in a stern, hoarse voice: “I fear, my dear, we shall have to demand further evidence of your gratitude. Are you ready to do exactly as you are told, or must I whip you a bit more?” And I felt his fingers tighten painfully on the panting curves of my naked breasts.

“Please don't whip me,” I begged in tears, “I'll be obedient-I'll do whatever you tell me, I swear I will, Mr. Raleigh. Only untie me and don't use that awful strap on my bottom anymore.”

“Hm,” he smiled as he straightened, hands on hips, watching me with a smile of cruelty, of enjoyment, “You really seem to be in earnest, Lucille my dear. Or are you trying to beg off more of the strap?”

“Oh, no, no, oh, please, no, Mr. Raleigh,” I sobbed desperately, “I do mean it, truly, I do. I'll obey you in anything, I swear I will, but don't whip me anymore now. Oh, I couldn't stand that strap anymore, I just couldn't. I haven't disobeyed you. You said yourself I haven't, and I won't. Oh, truly, Mr. Raleigh, just let me go now, oh, please.”

“You plead your case very charmingly, my dear. Very well, I am going to test your obedience. First”-he took the strap from my back, and I uttered a cry of terror-“you'll kiss the strap and thank me for the sound whipping I just gave you, because it's taught you how to be obedient.”

And, trembling as if I had a fever, my tears running down my cheeks to be so humiliated and so afraid, I did just what he asked, stammering out my thanks for his having whipped me so well to make me an obedient girl.