When she let him breathe his arms and legs hung limply. He was so weak that he could barely move at all. "Worthless little shit. I should have do...e this to you before. This feels *so* good." Alana climbed off of him and worked off her pants. His head lolled back against the bench as he stared at her with a mixture of relief and shock. The fresh air rushing into his lungs felt wonderful, but why was she undressing herself? As frightened as he was of her, he still couldn't help. He put on his walking britches, a woollen shirt and tie and his favourite old Norfolk jacket. He found a pair of stout shoes in the boot room and, feeling heartened by the change into familiar, comfortable clothing, set out for his walk. The path skirted the rose garden and ran down beside the old coach house, across the stable yard and out into the open fields of Home Farm. His pace quickened once away from the house and he found the years dropping away. He had followed this track countless. More

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