She was dragged kicking, into the house and up the stairs into Max's playroom.Her eyes bulged and she had to place both hands over her stomach tightly...to keep from vomiting at the horrifying sight that greeted her.Max was chained to the wall next to the racks, his arms and legs stretched wide apart. Carlos was standing in front of him holding a glowing hot poker several inches from his stomach. Almost every inch of his nude body was covered with swollen black marks where the poker had seared. I shuddered and moaned into my gag, tears flowing out of my eyes as I fought against the pain.I looked around my cell once the pain had subsided. I was in a jail cell in the Seattle Police Department. One of Mark's bodyguards—draped in the slutty, disgusting parody of a cop's uniform—watched me. The poor woman was one of Mark's slaves, his choker tight about her throat, stamped with her number—20. He took even her name away, the fucking pig.*Lana...* I sent out, hoping my wife lived.*Chantelle!. More

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