“I-I can’t remember…” she huffs, pants. Her body strains as the intensity builds.
“Yes, you can remember.”
“I’m sorry,” she answers with a pathetic whimper.
“Don’t you dare cry, girl! I asked you a question; all you have to do is answer me with the truth. Or do I have to punish you, the way you were punished last night?”
“No, please, ma’am.”
“Maybe that’s the only thing you understand, Melinda, physical abuse? It gives you pain. It gives you pleasure. What more could you want?”
“I’m just…” she starts.
“Is that what you need? To be punished?”
“No, ma’am,” her voice is barely audible.
“Answer me in a clear voice.”
“No, Ma’am!” she declares loudly.
“That’s better. Now answer my question. Tell me about the worst time you were anally raped by Mr. Janes.”
“It really wasn’t rape.”
