“Bend over, slut, and grasp your ankles. Rose, make sure she doesn’t topple over.”Yvonne was already close to tears as she did as she was told. Her red butt cheeks stood out and made a tempting target. Yvonne was silent for the first three on each cheek but cracked as the next pair came down. She yelped and squirmed and tried to rise but I noticed that Rose pressed down firmly on her back to hold her in place. Yvonne was sobbing by the time I’d delivered the eighth pair, so I paused. It was then that I had a good idea! “Two more on each,” I said so that Yvonne could prepare herself. But then I threw her my ‘curve ball’. “Would you like to try these, Rose?” I held out the paddle, handle first. And she took it with a surprised look. She swung it back and forth a couple of times to get the measure of its weight and then looked at me.“Go ahead. In your own time,” I told her, “just two on each.”The first two were mild attempts and I thought she was trying to be kind, but I was wrong, and. ? They had a blank check to write their ownliving nightmares. They tortured and killed young boys and old men alike.? They raped young girls as their fathers wereforced to watch.? They killed poor,defenseless old men as their grandchildren looked on. They forced sisters andmothers to have sex with their own sons and brothers.? ?They stripped an entire family naked, then forced them to slowlywalk humiliated through town to their execution the entire village looked on.? Raising her head to make eye contact for the first timesince she began to speak, Anna said ?Marla, this journal was written by amonster, a real, living monster.? Eachtime I turned another page I prayed that it was not true, that the next page wouldsay this was all made up, just some sick, pervert?s pathetic attempt at fictionor fantasy.? But I?m afraid my hope wasin vain.? I?m certain it is real, Marla.? It is just too unbelievably horrible to imagine.I want to believe this is fiction, but, but ?.? Anna?s voice trailed.
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