Deborah’s jaw tightened momentarily. ‘Of course, Miss Wenchley. Please share your complaints with me.’ I nodded toward my untouched cup of coffe.... ‘Have you noticed my coffee is black, Deborah?’ ‘That’s ‘Miss Cohen,” she said. ‘I’m sure it is,’ I said. ‘Have you noticed that my coffee is black, Deborah?’ Deborah was a professional. Despite my obvious baiting, the pause was only about three heartbeats before she answered, ‘Yes, I can see that.’ I nodded. ‘Very good, Deborah. And do you know how. Thoughts of other Conversations with Mrs MacDonald as well as my talk with Lillian flashed through my head, and for the first time felt punishment were necessary. I grabbed the hair brush and began to strike her with it hard on her arse, she struggled but I had a firm grip on the one wrist I held her pinned down with. My anger was mounting as she didn't even try to get away, she just cried out after each stroke. I felt her clothes was cushioning the blows, so in frustration I lifted up her. More

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