At least not as far as he could tell. God hadn't ever spoken to him, reached down and touched him with his mighty hand — or done anything else remotely of the sort.The man who called himself John Healer had long been a religious skeptic, and despite having experienced this spectacular form of intervention by seemingly supernatural forces, John remained a skeptic still. If anything, discovery of his "power" had reinforced John's spiritual skepticism - however contradictory that statement might seem.John didn't know how to "teach" anyone else how to do what he did, or whether it would ever be possible for him to do so. He didn't know whether there was some physical element associated with his newfound power to cure people. Was it something genetic? Something in his blood?He felt guilty about the fact that he was choosing to deprive the world of the possibility of conducting scientific research that might provide answers to questions of this kind.Obviously, if others could somehow. Meena screamed and bucked but Irma held her firm. Five more times she cracked the cane across that young arse. Even on the dark skin the welts showed up fiery and angry. Sheelan handed me the rattan and Irma translated that I was to give the girl the same again. I thought she’d already been punished enough but I had already been called a fool for being weak so I laid on my six, waiting after each one like my instructor had said, until Meena’s writhing had quietened down.I had expected it to be all over then but no, Sheelan pointed to the bulge in my crotch, made a circle with the fingers of her left hand and poked the index finger of the right in and out. The meaning was clear. "You zig-zig." It was a word I knew. Both older women watched expectantly as I pulled out my cock. They seemed pleased when they saw it and gabbled for a few moments before Irma said, "You must do it to her now. Do it hard and then do it again as soon as you can. Do it often. She will respect you then." Please.
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