Forty Seven
I sweat. Is it the heat, the exertion, the steady torment as each step zings the huge muscles of my buttocks?
The bells ring as demanded. I must assume the water is flowing satisfactorily as both Miss Lucinda and the ‘man of the plantation’, as Miss Lucinda affectionately refers to Major Bill, have gone unseen for hours.
Miss Lucinda is correct concerning the ability to counter the spasms brought by tension on the rings. Though I feel the signal to cramp I concentrate and override it, like controlling hiccups or delaying a sneeze. The process adds a curious dimension to the drudgery. Slow exhaustion interspersed with continuing zaps that I must overcome in order to keep pulling, which brings more zaps.
I think about the woman I have come to adore being ‘taken’, as Miss
