The heavily braided leather left a neat bloody diagonal wound on the white flesh that Mr. Simmons appreciated greatly. The assembled girls held their ...ands over their mouths but still they could hardly suppress a collective gasp of horror. They knew as well as everyone that the punishment was forty lashes. There were still thirty-nine more to go. How could anyone withstand that much punishment? But Mr. Simmons knew that the human body—even the body of a frail, pretty. Two women came around the corner into the courtyard and I realised they must be the cleaners Mike had mentioned. One was about my age with shoulder length brown hair and what looked like might be a half-decent figure sadly hidden under a baggy sweatshirt and shapeless jeans. The other girl was a few years younger – maybe just past 30 – and was very pretty in a tomboyish sort of way – short blond hair, checked shirt – straining against a pair of good-sized tits - tight jeans and timberland. "So how did you end up running a marina?" she asked."Family business. Or it used to be, anyway. My dad started it thirty years ago and did real well, well enough to put me and my brother through college. But five years ago he got sick, and his health insurance didn't cover everything so he had to sell it. When he died, the guy who bought it asked me to run the place."She nodded and asked "Why did you accept? You had your degree, right?" A degree in English. I was actually working in a. They looked at each otherand back at me. I turned very red again. I couldn't believe that I didthat. In front of the whole class. Looking left and right, I saw myclassmates. All eyes were on me; I started to fidget and get nervous. Iwas in a panic. A cute classmate of mine jumped up out of her chair andwent towards me. She gave me a long embracing hug. She looked me straightin the eye and said, "I'm sorry we forced you. You are very beautiful andyou dont deserve to be humiliated like this..