He steps back and to one side. I can see him through my legs, running his fingers along the cane. I feel the touch of the rattan on my trousers as he measures his distance and adjusts his stance. Then I feel it no more. The first starts with shock. It takes several seconds for the pain to register. The cane rests on my buttocks once more. The Second. The pain is immediate. Forking through me like lightning. I clench my teeth. He tells me to reach further down. The Third. This is awful. Was the third always so bad? “Hold your ankles tight,” he tells me. And the Fourth. I let go. I can’t help it.
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