How could he? He was the most important thing in his life. ‘Just let me try again.’ he would whisper to himself as he sat alone in the house-every light burning until he drank himself to sleep. Waking up with her touching him so it seemed. The sound of her walking, humming just out of sight as he woke, made him frantically search for her in the empty house. He had to get her back. He had to make good this time. So he began to visit the family crypt where she was interred. A thing he never thought she would have, the huge grey stone house with her family name on it. He was to keep the key until his eldest was old enough to handle such things, and day by day after work now he sat there, talking to her. Here he could sleep without the night terrors. Then one day the chair was there. Visible through the small window in the metal door. No sign of where it came from, it just was. As frightening as the disappearances had been, this chilled his spine. And so it came that he took all the. Are you ready? Do you need a muzzle or gag?" No Miss and I'm ready Miss." Good. Grip the far side of the desk. Spread your feet about a yard apart."I stood back swishing the crop through the air. I could see her body trembling slightly. I let the crop lie quietly on her left cheek. She flinched. Then ...I brought the crop down hard on her cheek. She yelped, as much in surprise as pain I think. A red mark quickly formed where I had landed the first blow. I stroked her right cheek with the crop. She tensed. The second blow landed opposite the first. This time she took it in silence but flinched from the sharpness of the strike. I stopped to admire my handiwork before returning to the left cheek. I continued left then right for a 12 strokes and then paused. She had yelped once or twice but had not flinched. Her cheeks were by now a bright pink colour. I touched them with the palm of my hand and could feel the heat coming from them. I stroked them gently. They were soft and smooth.
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