27 - Oakley.

I flex my chest muscles, stretching out my back, as I watch the clock's hand strike one o'clock in the afternoon.

Time for my lesson with Eva.

My fingers drum impatiently on the desk as I wait for her to arrive. Eva has been late for every one of our discipline sessions since we started just over two weeks ago, and it doesn't matter how much I try to instill that fear in her. She will not bend to my will.

She's stronger than expected. Every time I punish her, I come that much closer to snapping the line I have on my control. It's as if she's trying to taunt the beast to come out to play. After our first session, I assumed she may have worn more discreet underwear, but she wears the same skimpy little thongs each time.

After yesterday's in the chapel and then in the corridor, I fear she may not turn up. The fear in her eyes was as real as I've ever seen it, and it made me sick to my stomach. I'm a sick son of a bitch, and I know it.

I've made her attend discipline class every day, even