" Yes, Sir," she managed between labored breaths. "Thank you, Sir."He punctuated his point with another sharp swipe of the whip, and she thought about...how much she loved that sting as the mix of sweat and sunblock covering her skin began to burn the mark she knew was forming. She'd never thought of a forced march as being part of the scene before.She noticed something, then. First, beneath the ache and strain of her shoulders, she understood that her body was warm, in that wonderful, glowing. She said I had nice breasts. They're not nice. They're just big. I hate them, and I told her so. But she laughed at that, and said that ALL women hate their breasts, or at least wished they were different. She motioned me toward the showers, but I made sure she walked in front of me.In the shower, I always faced her, turning on the water as I stood to one side, my back toward the wall. She didn't seem to catch on at first, and after several minutes I actually thought I was going to get out of. More

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