Chapter Thirty-Two
In some regards, the week goes quickly. In others, staring at my bedroom ceiling at night, trying to ignore a stiff p***s which will not offer me the ultimate in gratification, it goes slowly.
Thursday, I visit Nurses Greta and Emma where I am again both mentally and physically stripped of all dignity. And all hair as well, whatever stubble has cultivated. Nurse Emma enjoys the sight of my fading welts from the caning.
“Well whipped males attract,” she summarily divulges.
Then Friday comes and as commanded, I traverse the stairs to Miss Denise’s seventh floor lair of horrors.
The routine repeats, only on this visit, I have taken the precaution of partaking in a sumptuous Friday lunch, knowing that food is a rare treat under Miss Denise’s tutelage.
Sometime Saturda
