Charlotte returned with the brushes and my stomach plunged and my bottom involuntarily clenched in terrified anticipation as I heard them being carefully set down on the glass coffee table. Mum stood at the side of me, pinning my torso down firmly with her left hand. She leaned across, her large pregnant belly brushing against my bare legs, and smacked me with her right hand several times.
The worst part about this stage of the smacking was the knowledge that it was already so stingy and painful but was only going to get worse– a lot worse. The pain hadn’t yet reached the stage where I could think of nothing other than the fire in my bum, and I remember resentfully wondering what my bitch teacher was doing at that very moment.