By Sorbus
Yeah. . . I would never, ever underestimate the strength those biceps had. Nope, not ever gonna happen. Considering that I hadn’t been swatted in a very long time. . . it was no surprise how much my eyes burned as I tried my best to hold the tears back. Anybody who thinks it’s shameful for a grown guy to cry. . . I’d gladly invite them to take my place at that flogging post and let Sir have a go at him. Their attitude is going to change after just a few swings of those arms that belonged on Paul Bunyan. Sir might be a game warden, but I have a feeling he spent a few summers wielding chainsaws during his college summers, and never skipped arm day in the gym.
“There we go,” he said, his voice calm and low when he finally set the paddle down. It didn’t show the slightest hint that he’d exerted himself. “I’m going to remove the clothespins before I ungag you. Fair warning, removing them is going to as bad, if not worse, as putting them on.”
