PART 3-My husband dragged me to the shed, secured my wrists to a wooden beam, and then used a wet rope to whip my thighs and stomach.
“Yes.” “Can we not forgive her yet?” “Yes.” Sophie nodded. “Then I want to wait.” We waited. Three more years passed before the girls chose to exchange carefully supervised letters …
PART 3-My husband dragged me to the shed, secured my wrists to a wooden beam, and then used a wet rope to whip my thighs and stomach. Read More