She smiled and climbed in. We made a left out of the parking lot and headed toward Marshal county. We bantered back and forth for a bit, then she hi... me with a question that I wasn't expecting."Can you sing?" Can I? Yes. Do I sound good? No."She gave a small laugh and left it at that. I've never been comfortable talking in front of crowds and now I have a feeling I'll be singing in front of them. This will be interesting.We reached the county line bar at around 9. The place wasn't. She loved being fucked on the soft mat and would transform into an insatiable slut whenever we fucked on it. I asked her if she was aware of how nasty and slutty she became when getting fucked in that room and she kind of shrugged it off and said it must be the mirrored walls and how they reminded her of the gymnasium back in high school when she was an aspiring gymnast and acrobat and then she wouldn’t talk about it anymore. Her former life as an athlete was a sensitive subject and one she. "Elke, it was my fault... and I enjoyed our encounter," I teased.She blushed again and nothing more was said.The next night we had another great dinner and then spent three hours in an intense Russian lesson. Their language is very difficult to speak, read, or write. Elke wanted me to be perfect in all three!At the end of the lesson I said, "I have to go."She walked me to the apartment door and looked at me. It wasn't her normal look—it was a look of expectation. And then I realized that every. Although the stick landed with a painful ‘THWACK!’ the stroke would only travel some two or three feet to it’s target. The victim would gasp and jerk forward at each impact; she might flex her knees a little and after it was over all but the most stoical (in which category I most definitely don’t place myself!) would have voiced some sort of protest or usually would have been in tears. With this thrashing the strokes were given at about five seconds intervals and were given from shoulder height.