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.
But he is patient. “Down again,” he tells me eventually. And I obey. By now there is a reservoir of pain running from my buttocks through my whole being. He takes his time. Then. The Fifth. Christ!! Somehow I keep my position, but I’m aware of a sort of moaning noise coming through my teeth.
The cane touches my tight trousers once more. I shut my eyes. It touches again. And again. And then….Never had there been pain like it. That Sixth!
Before I could collect my wits, the Prefect had stepped away and departed. And I was left to struggle my way to the dayroom without crying.