Like a method actor, I'd willed rage to rise up and become my dominant emotion, but as I gazed at the painting, I felt the fury inside me melt away. R...ge gives way to joy. Rage will lose the race with happiness every time. I rushed into the house."Dad! Dad! Where are you?" I shouted."Right behind you, cupcake," he said calmly.I spun to the sound his voice. "Come! See!" I dragged him into my studio and stood him in front of the painting.He gazed at the painting. Dad wouldn't mollycoddle me. He'd. It was kept in a drawer of a dresser in our living room. I oiled it regularly, to keep it supple and painful. "Okay, upstairs, and get ready for me! No nonsense!" Of course, there never was any nonsense when it was a day that I selected the cane. No nonsense, just tears and pleading usually. I climbed the stairs to our bedroom. She was ready. Submissively on all fours on the bed, with just her lace knickers on. My oriental beauty! I lowered her knickers and could smell a gamey, turned-on aroma.. More

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