I didn’t care about the scratch on my arm, but what if the bullet had hit Callie instead of me? I needed to take the initiative. But how?Later in be..., in the darkness, with Callie so close she was almost on top of me, she spoke. “I’m sorry.”“Sorry for what?”“For falling apart like that. I’ve never seen a dead body before. I haven’t seen a gunshot wound, either. I don’t like blood, Hunter. It makes me sick to my stomach. How can you handle it so easily?”“It just is. I don’t think about it.. Thirty strokes promised unimaginable pain."You know what to do. Strip and get over the whipping bench," ordered Martha, "You won't be shackled because I'm not a customer. You will count each stroke. You won't move or try to get up until you are told that you may. Do you understand?" Yes, Madame," said a very frightened Jacqui, quietly.She quickly slipped off her overalls and lay over the whipping bench. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the agony to come when she saw the actual birch cane. More

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