It was almost exactly six when a man of about forty came through the door. Even though the weather was warm, he was wearing dirty jeans and a long sle...ve sweat shirt. I had a sweat shirt like it in my back pack, because I would be riding home in the night air.“Welcome,” I said rising to shake his hand. “I’m John.”He shook my hand and mumbled something which I didn’t understand. “You’re the guy who got out after twenty years?” he asked.“Yeah, how long were you in for?” I asked.“I did eight, but. If I've been bad during the day, he'll pass sentence on the spot, and I'll know that my punishment will come at bedtime, so I'll have all day long to think about it. By the time bedtime rolls around, I'm always sorry for what I did and know that I deserve the spanking I'm about to get. I normally sleep naked (Daddy prefers that), but for my spankings I change into PJs and sit on the bed to wait.Daddy comes into the bedroom and tells me to stand up. He then takes my spot on the bed and has me. This ability set her apart from so many of the other portraitists who lined the sidewalks. Their work seemed to reproduce people who were stilted effigies of human beings.A crowd was gathering. She could see people out of the corner of her eye, and hear some of their hushed comments. She had grown accustomed to being watched, and she felt a particular excitement now. She knew her sketch of the tourist in the cranberry jacket was an exceptionally good one.The crowd of onlookers was growing now,. "Owwww. Oh, that hu..."CRACK.His cry was interrupted by the impact on the right.CRACK CRACK CRACKSwinging the brush rapidly, she watched as his flesh flattened and sprang back with every impact. His distress was obvious and it didn't take long for the pleading to start."I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Ow Ow Ow Please stop. It hurts so much."His pleas fell on deaf ears. She was enjoying the power that came with disciplining her husband. Listening to his cries and watching him squirm.