Samantha peered closely at her breasts. There were still some faint marks, the distant echoes of bruises.
“Open your legs so I can see,” Samantha ordered.
Rather awkwardly Miss Taylor opened her legs wide, turning the thighs outward. Samantha could see several faint lines remaining.
“I don’t think you were beaten hard enough,” said Samantha. “Go and lie on your back on the sofa. Open your legs and bend your knees.”
Miss Taylor could hardly fail to guess what was coming. Samantha had not brought a riding crop, but she had a short wooden cane which would serve well enough. She sat down beside Miss Taylor and pushed her legs further apart. She raised her arm and brought it down smartly, the cane catching Miss Taylor full on the inside of her right thigh, midway between hip and knee. Miss
