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Quickly getting over her anger she asked, ‘So what’s he like? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him?’ ‘Nice…Dominick Dupree…here.’ ‘Dupree? Sounds exotic,’ she paused and then asked, ‘Well, is he hot?’ Raising her head, she stared at her friend through sleep deprived eyes. She was about to answer when someone knocked on the door and without any hesitation let himself in. Averting their sights to that same spot both were in awe of what was there. A tall, muscular man, with blonde hair and blue eyes appeared to be rolling in some kind of package. He was wearing a blue uniform that resembled the kind mail carriers wear minus the hat. His hair flowed around his face almost in slow motion. And just like a model for Calvin Klein’s cologne he smiled and ran his fingers through the golden locks. From all sides he looked like the equivalent of a Greek God. His nametag read ‘Tommy’ and he had a tattoo of music notes circling his left bicep. Angel’s expression changed when she saw that Melanie. I must have hit her several dozen times by now, but none of it counts. So I keep going. Her skin is turning red, not the deep angry red of recently whipped skin, but the reddish glow of irritated skin. And tap tap tap it goes. We must be well past 100 taps now, and again I increase the strength a bit. But no too much. Tap tap tap. Anna is squirming now, the taps becoming noticeable if not actually painful. And still I go on. When I guess that we are at about 150, I increase the strength a third time. But not too much. It is still a rapid rain of light swats with a wooden rod. Tap tap tap. 200. And again a bit harder. But not too much. By now my sister is clearly uncomfortable, she is moving this way and that, and I bet that her ass is quite tender. That, after all, was my plan all along: tenderise her bottom with light hits that don't count in her eyes, so that the real hits later will have much more of an ... impact.Anna must have realised the same thing, because suddenly, without.
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