Again her engine caught the moment I turned the key, its silky purr promising everything you could want out of a car.I warmed her up by cruising down ...he main drag of this modest town to the local service station. I didn't need gas yet. This petite car's fuel gauge still read full.Instead I checked her oil, air, and other fluid levels right down to the water in her windshield washer reservoir, exactly as the owner's manual specified. Everything was precisely where it should be, but I felt. "NO!" she said emphatically. "However, it does mean that I might be able to accept it. I love you, sweetheart, and I do want you to be happy. Plus, I know how stubborn you are. It amazes me that he is able to control you at all. I do want to talk to your 'Master' though, and make sure that he understands that I will not tolerate him abusing you!" Not even if I want the abuse?" I asked."Don't start with me, young lady!" mother said."What about you, mom?" Jamie asked her mother. "Are you OK with. I slid out of bed and dropped to my knees. I watched as Master slept and wondered wildly what this paragon of virtue could be dreaming? Was he dreaming of me? Could thoughts of varying my punishments, with a few jealously interjected pleasures intwined, be rolling around his beautiful brain? Is he dreaming of scenarios? Perhaps I'm made to lie in a tub of my own urine while he and a number of his male friends stand in a cattle call waiting for their turn to empty their bladders on me? With. My Father's hand kept my hands in place while the other one kept coming at my face. He was drunk again, way too drunk. I was crying, begging, pleading him to stop, but he didn't. My mother stood behind him yelling and screaming trying to pull him off me but he kept pushing her to the floor. "Shut up bitch!" he yelled at her, "Shut the fuck up!" Another blow on me.You're probably asking yourself what's going on. Let me tell you. My name is Stephanie, I was 18 years old when this happened. I was.