“No. No, please,” she answered with tears running down her cheeks. “Good god, I am a w***e for this, you know that, you always have. Just take me please, do what you will to me. I want it, Mitchell, I want it and I need it now. Don’t stop.”
He was happy for her confession, but it still wasn’t enough revenge. Going on for another half hour, he tortured her with the birches and words, and the truth driven in so deep, she could never deny it again. And then, just when she had gone to the depths of her confession, just when she thought he would give her some simple body peace, he resumed his anxious, petulant pacing around her dangling body, flailing the birches on her raw skin, so she was pleading for mercy. She was not at the edge of anything right then, certainly not an orgasm. It
