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[Image of Little Miss Naughty] Charge-Off
by Mija

Sarah removed her camel Jimmy Choo pumps. They'd been so necessary in June -- their $500 price now proved obscene. Pausing before removing her skirt, she looked pleadingly at the camera.

"Please, August will be different. I had extra expenses because of moving. Please?"

A hesitation. Perhaps he was considering mercy.

"Miss Sarah Angelica Garcia?"

"Yes sir?"

He coughed. Sarah waited, breathless.

"I'm not concerned with your personal life -- only your finances. To wit, your debts."

Moisture pricked behind Sarah's large brown eyes.

Paper rustled. The voice continued.

"As of July, you owed $5768 to a total of seven creditors, correct?"

She nodded, looking down.

"And, realizing you needed to take hold of your finances, you chose my firm. Together, Sarah, we worked out a payment plan . . . which was . . . ?"

Moisture welled into tears -- streaking her white skin. Her voice shook.

"I will pay $500 or 10% of the balance, whichever is greater, to your firm by the third, every month." She turned away from the camera, crying.

"Correct. And, this month, I've paid 10% of your balances -- totaling $576.80."

He continued, ". . . but how was your check, received on August 7th?"

"$450, sir." Her voice cracked in fear. The penalty was supposed to be severe.

His voice. "I make that a shortage of $126.80, yes?"

Sarah nodded, unable to speak.

"Thus, Miss Garcia, you have one minute to undress and get into position. In exactly one minute, Mrs. Koch will enter. Should you still be clothed and out of position, she will summon two assistants who will forcibly cut your clothing from your body. Is this entirely clear?"

Sarah's hands moved of their own volition. She removed her stockings, skirt and blouse without even thinking about the camera and her unseen master. But, unhooking her bra, she looked up.

"What position, sir?"

His silence leered at her.

"Bent over the white chair, hands on the seat."

The chair faced the door and away from the camera.

She removed her bra and then, fingers fumbling, took down her panties. Footsteps outside made her rush into position, her bottom offered to the silent lens.

A heavyset matron entered holding a 28-inch crook-handled cane and a clipboard.

The matron clicked her tongue, reading. "That'll be 128 strokes, given in groups of 24, a quarter hour of rest between groups."

Sarah looked up. But Mrs. Koch spoke to the camera.

The intercom crackled. "Yes, you're on time and a half, dear lady. Add fourteen tawse strokes for Miss García's late penalty, please."

There was a pause.

"In your own time, madam."

Sarah, surprised, looked at the matron.

"Wait, he pays you to cane me?"

The matron flexed the cane impatiently. "Not just you, miss. Bend over like a good girl."

"But-but, this is costing -- that is, what does he get out of it?"

She tapped the cane in reply. But the intercom broke the silence.

There was low, amplified rumbling laughter.

"Me? I like to watch"

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