" I'm a nude slave. Your nude slave. Your slut. Your nude slut."Another hard slap. "Are you wet?" I nodded. "What does that make you?"I thou...ht for a moment, groping for the answer she wanted. The slaps hurtand I was crying again. She smiled and slapped me again. "I like itwhen you cry." Another slap. "Answer me!" I'm a wet cunt. I'm a nude, wet-cunt slave. A nude bitch-slut." I wasin pain, sobbing, humiliated, and very very aroused. More aroused than I'dever been in my. My partner and I were responsible for many of those 20,000 and none of the 600. The Bostonians were sorely vexed by these attempts to block trade. Perhaps rum was more responsible for the revolution than tea. Young George's energy and acumen actually grew our company until it was worth more per year than the Barony, though that was some years in the future.Even in the beginning, I was earning enough from the business that I did not require funds from the estate. I let them accumulate in. Mother put a hair pin into my hair, and I giggled a little. Then Itried to move in a girly way. Mother called me a beauty. Then we satdown and continued our breakfast.- Sam, you have had your bra for three weeks now. And you wear italmost every day. I have already washed it twice. What do you thinkabout it?- I haven' had chest pain since I got it.- Bras need to be comfortable. How is yours?- Well, I get used to it.Mom took my hand and stared right into my eyes.- My darling. Try to express. Now, I had to figure out how to play the damn thing. I’d been nylon strings and wide classical necks since my first guitar. Three finger, four finger and flamenco picking was what I knew ... not that I was very good.“Yeah, I’ll just bet,” I said.“Bet what,” said Johnny.“Just talking to the voices in my head,” I said.“You and Karen,” John said.“What?”“She talks to herself all the time.” Johnny said, “She talked to the ceiling when she bought the Lottery winner ... or so the story goes.”I burst.