It was bad enough that he was being pulled across the room like a small child. Even more embarrassing was the obvious gap between his verbal resistance and his physical compliance. The more he protested, the more juvenile he felt in allowing her to control him. By the time she escorted him through the basement door and closed it behind them, his cries had taken on a childish whining which confirmed everything she had just said. “Noooo Mrs Wilkins … please .. I don’t want to go downstairs with you … please … nnooooooo… noooooo!” Her only response was to swat him a few more times through his pants. After switching on the light, she walked down the stairs, still leading him firmly by the hand.
Mrs Wilkins110
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