I feel like an escapee from an LL Bean fashion catalog,” I said with a silly grin.“Either way, dead is dead, and Bambi is dinner.” Alice smacked...her lips in anticipation of venison stew.Unloaded rifle in hand, I followed her to the underground garage. A somewhat dented 2009 Kawasaki Mule retrofitted to run on hydrogen fuel would be our transportation. We spent the next fifteen minutes doing a pre-trip safety inspection.I read out the items from our pre-trip cheat sheet, and Alice reported the. I just stared in silence. I wanted to see her suffer. I wanted her flogged some more. I wanted her humiliated further. Eventually the beadles helped her too her feet and fastened the dress but for two or three minutes I’d been able to gaze on her shame.*For the next week I could think of nothing but her. The moment when she’d fallen and looked up, as though straight at me, arms still low, breasts hanging from her chest, eyes red with tears flickered in my consciousness 10, 20, 50 times an hour.. More

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