“Say it, Marcus. Promise your Madame that you’ll be a good boy from now on.” “I promise,” he croaks. “Madame.” “I don’t believe you,” I reply in a cold, emotionless tone. He whimpers because he knows what this means. I take another glance at the silk handkerchief again, but he’s still holding it tight. “I think you need six more to be sure. What do you think, Marcus?”
