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ng him fairly hard. "And if (whap) that mocking bird (whap)
don't sing, Mama's (whap) gonna buy you a diamond (whap) ring."
Next verse, still singing very softly, but hitting even harder. "And
if (whap) that diamond ring (whap) turns brass, Mama's (whap) gonna
buy you a looking (whap) glass." The sighs changed to moans, and I
wished that I had a better view of his face. I wondered what was in
those hard-to-read brown eyes right now.
I sang all the verses I could remember, hitting him slightly harder
with each verse. By the time I had finished the song, I was hitting
him as hard as I could, and I decided that it was time to switch to
the paddle that he had so thoughtfully provided. I figured it would
be a bad idea to take him unawares -- make him tense up -- so I told
him what I was going to do. "Darlin', I'm going to switch to the
paddle now."
I picked it up and hit him with it, not as hard as I'd been hitting
him with my hand, but still fairly hard, and spoke to him again. "You
doing okay, darlin'?" He nodded, and I continued my ministrations.
After a few strokes with the paddle, he changed from moaning to
outright crying. It sounded like crying he n
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