She didn't recognize Bob Costas, of course, but there was Cathy on national television. At a glance she thought how beautiful Cathy looked in the green and tan. Her eye even caught the gold collar around her daughter's neck. She screamed and Ed Bradley came running. The group in front of the television set quieted down, realizing that a member of their group had a personal interest in the show.She whispered, "Ed, that's my daughter, Cathy!"As they watched, Costas played the tape of the play in which Cathy had caught the ball off Ken's fingers, flopped on her face, and raced in for a touchdown. Vangie was appalled at Cathy's appearance. "My God," she murmured, "she's not wearing any clothes, she's barefoot and it's pouring down rain. Ed, look at that awful mud!"Edgar Bradley didn't respond. When she turned to look at him she found his jaw had dropped and he was shaking his head. Finally he was able to speak and said, "Vangie, that's my son, Ken! He's with your daughter."The surprises. THWACK! THWACK!But then again, Sierra wasn’t the one being walloped on the behind. Luke and a burly assistant each held an inch-wide strap, and were bringing it down with full force on Cassandra’s rear. My view was from behind Sierra’s head, so I could see Sierra jiggle at the sound, and saw Cassandra jerk at each stroke. My hand dipped into my panties again... I loved to see a woman being strapped; I knew it would hurt like hell, but it was hard to do permanent damage with a strap. At the end of the thirty strokes, Luke told Sierra that they would continue to strap poor Cassandra until she pissed in her face. Sierra then did something quite remarkable; she looked around at the audience, and asked quietly if she should wait before peeing and let Cassandra take some more strokes. She did. The evil submissive wench must have let Cassandra take another fifty strokes on her rear. Cassandra dropped from composed to desperate in the space of a few minutes. I saw her hair shake over her.
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