“We have come for our son,” he boomed out.“Did you want to take him home in a bushel basket?”“What do you mean?” He started to walk toward... me. The point of the sword told him that was not a wise idea.“I mean this is my slave. I saved him from death and he owes me his life.”The woman cried out behind him. “You can’t take James from me.”William turned to look at the woman who I decided was James’ mother, Martha, and then back at me. “Name your price,” he bellowed.“Not for sale.”“Every slave is. Whenever you play with yourself you'll remember how I wore your ass out." The last bit was starting to fade out, because about the only things I could focus on were the relentless hammering in my guts and the imminent explosion I was about to get. And oh yes, it was definitely going to be a hard one. About three seconds later, my moans started getting louder and closer together...my whole body went tight and then relaxed as I shot a good five or six times, soaking my whole hand and flinging. More

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