The next smack seemed as fierce as all the others.
“Please, I’ll talk, I’ll tell you anything, please, just stop!”
“You going to tell me the truth?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, I promise, everything. Honest.” She was gasping for breath between the smacks. The sting, the burn, the heat—anything, she’d do anything to get him to stop.
With a few final strikes, Naughton silenced the belt, though he refused to let her stand. With a hand at her back keeping her in the humiliating pose, he demanded answers.
“Why were you drinking?” he asked.
“I told you I was getting depressed.”
“Like the booze is going to help?”
“Sometimes it does.”
“Tell me more.”
She snuffed and tried to think of what to say, but took too long as far as the bar owner was concerned. He laid the belt on her behind again
