She smiled back. “Hello.” I loved the tone of her voice - soft yet confident. ”Are you waiting for someone?” I asked. “Not anymore,” she r...sponded. “Great. May I get you another glass of wine?” An hour and the rest of the bottle later Miss Smith had told me about her life as an analyst; about how she sometimes needed to travel with her boss on business and sales trips but that he preferred room service to hotel restaurants; and how lonely she would get in the evenings. And how she had steeled. Madam Payne was very well named. She was inflicting some of the most intense agony Owen had ever experienced. To her, it was the simplest thing in the world to reduce him to a gibbering wreck. She needed nothing but practiced flourishes of her thin wooden reed.That was all well and good, but there was something off about her. Something Owen didn't like nearly as much as the torment she was delivering to his quivering, whipped-raw ass. There was a cruelty that went beyond performance and. More

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