He savoured the moment, caressing her lovely globes, then raised his hand and with all the force he could muster struck her backside with a resounding SMACK. Without being told, she winced and as each smack fell chanted, “one”…smack “two”… smack “three”…, the number uttered as if to trigger the next stroke, his hand stinging now, he set up a rhythm “seven”, smack, “eight”, smack, “nine”, at “ten” he stopped, had her stand, knowing there was much more to come, and memories of her old dad and his discipline, dispelling rapidly, she let him lead her to the work bench, standing her at the end nearest the door, and bending her forward, over the bench end, taking and securing the left rope in the vice at the far end, then taking the right he pulled her arm out tight once more, and tied it to the leg via the far bench end, she was secure enough. They both knew there was 30 strokes to endure, her thanking god the both teams had been fairly crap last evening. He told her to count downwards.. You’ve done a hell of a job here. Let’s get this done and then hopefully we can rest for a few years,” I said in a very sincere voice.As he was about to reply we both caught a flash from the Doña Anas. George turned and made a big wave, signaling a ‘ready to receive’ acknowledgement with a torch since direct sunlight hadn’t reached us here yet. The message said that the raiders had broken camp. I raised an eyebrow when the message said the raiders were less than two miles away and coming up the road at a canter. They were much closer than I’d expected.George waved another acknowledgement before turning to me. “I’d still like to know why they are doing it this way instead of how they usually do it, but at this point it’s curiosity, not worry, that makes me wonder. Hopefully one of them will survive long enough to tell us.”While George had been talking I’d been watching the growing dust cloud to the south. “We can always hope George, but it really doesn’t matter anymore.” I pointed to.
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