"Oh my God!" I cried, beside myself. "I will do whatever you
command, be your slave, a mere object with which you can do what you
will--only don't send me away--I can't bear it--I cannot live without
you." I embraced her knees, and covered her hand with kisses.

"Yes, you must be a slave, and feel the lash, for you are not a
man," she said calmly. She said this to me with perfect composure,
not angrily, not even excitedly, and it was what hurt most. "Now I
know you, your dog-like nature, that adores where it is kicked, and
the more, the more it is maltreated. Now I know you, and now you
shall come to know me."

She walked up and down with long strides, while I remained crushed
on my knees; my head was hanging supine, tears flowed from my eyes.

"Come here," Wanda commanded harshly, sitting down on the ottoman.
I obeyed her command, and sat down beside her. She looked at me
sombrely, and then a light suddenly seemed to illuminate the interior
of her eye. Smiling, she drew me toward her breast, and began to kiss
the tears out of my eyes.

* * * * *

The odd part of my situation is that I am like the bear in Lily's
park. I can escape and don't want to; I am ready to endure everything
as soon as she threatens to set me free.

* * * * *

If only she would use the whip again. There is something uncanny in