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It wasn't when were dating, and nothing changed about that after we were married. Plus, Mara and made it very clear to me, right from the start, that if we did get married (and I very much wanted to marry her), that she wanted c***dren---just not c***dren with me, nor with any 'white' Caucasian male, for that matter. Instead, she'd made up her mind to have ONLY black men's babies, and, more than that, but she only wished to conceive with African males. She was adamant about that, and already being quite in love with Mara, I never objected it.One of the things I love about my wife is her tenacious commitment to doing something significant against what some call 'white supremacy', or simply 'racism.' She'd felt this was growing up, as time went on, she felt more and more determined to do something significant against racism---and giving her womb to be the incubator of black-fathered c***dren was, to her, the most effective way of going about it; and I agreed with her. I still do!Maybe. When I got to the end of the long corridor and looked back, he was standing, hands on hips, looking at me. I saw three of the hockey girls in the middle of the quad, through the glass of the door. They were standing with hands over their mouths.The final five minutes of my "treasure hunt" passed without incident and I walked back to the changing room, swinging my hips, trying to walk sexily. Some of the girls followed me back laughing and the others were standing on the veranda of the pavilion. I walked back into the changing room and they followed me in clapping.I now had their respect and the upper hand. I felt empowered and in control. They formed a circle round me. Nonchalantly I said "If it is ok with you, I will change back into my clothes now. Please stay and watch - or give me a hand - I don't mind which!". Normally I would never have dared to say that to a girl!With some difficulty with the unusual fixings, I started to strip off. After a moment, a few of the girls came.
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He stopped in front of her, showed her the belt and then at her nod of readiness he raised his arm for the first stroke. His aim was for her belly encased as it was, thinking to get the feel of the wide leather. The long belt wrapped itself round her with a report like a gun. She groaned, the tears began, the second struck across her bust. She jerked as if kicked, tears ran freely now dripping from her cheeks, her eyes wild and fearful… Crack the third hit across the bare rump and to his amazement a hard, red-line arose across both bare cheeks. Even with the gag she made a fair noise, her head shaking from side to side with the pain, her breathing hard through her nose, eyes fixed on him her mind desperately trying to prophesy the location of the next strike. She swung on the suspending cuffs, facing away from him and deliberately offering her ample rump as his next target. But Thwack…the leather wrapped itself around her waist once more, he had hit at her belly again, ignoring her.

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