President, Steve Grosse is here." Thank you Sarah. Please send him right in."Jack and I had spent an hour tearing apart everything I thought I knew about Ken Stanton. Each time I convinced myself I was being paranoid, Jack pulled some slight memory out of me that turned me back around.His strongest argument was the one that went, "How sure were you that Jason couldn't have been a part of the attempts on you and Charles?"Holy crap ... Ken???"You need to call the auditors. Have them crawl up his butt and keep digging till they see daylight. I want to know everything. Have them look for anything that connects him to Jason or Cutler. I can't see it, but I am tempted to believe it."Steve walked in and greeted Jack. I explained that I had a huge problem, and the he and Jack were the only ones I was able to tell without getting laughed at, or killed. True to his personality, when I mentioned killed, he sat up straighter and looked at the door."Here's the problem..." Jack and I briefed him. Emily's eyes are wild. She lets me recover for a moment before her hand rises and falls again, this time falling mostly on the left cheek. I let out a little shriek as my hips bump against the desk. My hands tighten their grip as once more the pain begins to fan through my limbs, scalding every cell. Then slowly, slowly, beneath the pain grows the warm glow of pleasure: pleasure in the purging of my guilt, in my submission to my goddess, in the complete and abject surrender of my body and mind, and pleasure too in the very pain itself. Now there are no senses but only the sensations of agony and ecstasy. No sound but the beating of the clock, the ebb and flow of our stifled breath and each swipe of the cane. Time itself stands still as if the past is dead, the future not yet born. There is only the present: the now and now and now as each blow cracks against my bottom. My fingers are clawing the desk, my pelvis banging against its side, tears and spittle wetting the polished.
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