ed him hard twice,
paused for breath, and then hit him twice more. "Bastards," she said
again. She took her time, winding up for each swing, not speeding up.
Oliver began to groan for real. He squeezed the ball, but he was losing
control. He thought of getting up and running away, but he was
handcuffed and naked.

"Cry, why don't you?" She cracked him again. She was deliberate. "Cry!"
Boys don't. "Cry!" Crack. "Who am I?" Crack.

"Mistress," he managed.

"Damn you." She hit him again. A hot tear squeezed from the corner of
his left eye.

"Cry!" Crack.

"Please," he said. Crack. "Please." Tears began to fall.

"Yes," she said. "More." Crack. He fell forward sobbing, helpless,
howling each time she struck him. He cried so convulsively, so hard,
that he didn't register the moment when she stopped and began to rub
his shoulders, comforting him. He hadn't cried like that since he was a
baby.

"Get up on the bed and turn over." She took off her jeans and panties,
put them on the chair, and came back from the dresser with a condom.
Oliver lay on his back, numb and floating, as she teased and rolled the
condom into place. Her eyes were huge as she straddled him. "Fifty,"
she said.

He wiggled into position and gave himself to her voice and the long
slow thrusts of her body. At thirty, her voice cracked. By forty, she
was whispering and beginning to tremble. At forty-five, she gasped
sharply and slumped forward. She caught and braced herself with her
hands on his shoulders, crying out with each new number as he strained
up into her. At fifty, he exploded; a blind white jet took them
drenched and mingled into the universe. He heard her laughing in the
nebulae, and then he collapsed. She lowered herself forward. A button
dug into his chest. Her hair pressed against his cheek. Awkwardly, he
brought his arms over her head and cradled her as best he could.

She was half off when he awoke. She removed the condom and came back
wearing a white bathrobe. "You are beautiful," she said, pulling tight
the cotton belt of her robe. He felt his cheeks glowing. "Beautiful.
Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you." She nodded and released the handcuffs. He dressed
slowly, feeling each movement of his body as though it were for the
first time. Jacky watched silently. He always left as soon as he was
dressed. "Good night--Mistress." His voice was quiet.

"Behave yourself," she said, looking at him thoughtfully.

He was on the br