"A few weeks ago, I forgot my flute and came home during lunch hour to pick it up before we had band practice after school. When I walked in the door,...I heard Mommy groaning. I was scared for a second, but then I heard her say, 'Fuck me, baby' in the middle of all that moaning, so I thought that she and Daddy might be 'doing it' but Daddy's car wasn't here so I had to see who could possibly be fucking my mother." The bedroom door wasn't quite shut," Abby continued. "When I peeked in, there was. “OK Dad, you can rub your bottom if you want.” She glared at him. It was an instruction he didn’t want. You were only allowed to rub before your spanking, never afterwards. Being allowed to rub could mean only one thing. One dreadful thing.“So Dad, the restaurant phoned and asked when I was going to book. Didn’t they?” Marty couldn’t speak.“Didn’t they,” she said sternly.Marty said a very weak, “Yes.”“Yes indeed,” Zoe said, adding, “So why don’t you rub Dad,” still glaring at him.Susie squirmed. Paul figured another Alexander Hamilton would cover it.By late in the morning, Paul was back at the station and prepared to focus his attention on his new job. WNUT-AM wasn't nearly the scurvy place that its owner, Wendell Jemison, had described. The old man seemed to have a genuine talent for downplaying everything -- at least everything he personally owned as a minor-league entrepreneur. His apartment building hadn't proved to be as tawdry as Jemison had suggested, and his radio station,. And the next customer sounded like what she wanted. "Physical" the director had said.She shivered a little at the thought of what this session was going to be like.The instant she pushed into the room, she was attacked. Strong arms curled around her legs and unceremoniously dumped her to the floor. Struggling, she rolled over. She vaguely noticed the floor and walls were padded. It'd be hard hurting herself in this insane asylum type room.Standing over her, totally naked and with a raging.