Instead, it was a watery, light yellow-brown shade, which wasn't going to hide much. Inside the pit, right next to the bales, there were round burlap ...ales the kind used to prevent erosion on unplanted slopes. Sheets of Visqueen apparently lined the bottom of the pit, and the round burlap held the Visqueen in place. It looked like the mud filled the burlap pit almost one-third of the way up, probably six inches or so. Five microphones hung suspended over the mud pit, on a framework holding some. Twelve strokes always followed my spanking. I wondered how I had forgotten. Maybe Zofia telling me it was over was the reason. A lie of course. I was livid with her, and about to say something until I saw her smile. “So Matthew, do you want your normal twelve strokes, or do you want to earn a lesser number?” I looked at her, through my blurred eyes, unsure if she was joking. Teasing me. Of course I wanted less strokes. Hell I wanted no strokes at all. “How?” I. More

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