"Mr. #%&$ ? This is Officer Campo with the (local) police dept. We have your mother here and she intoxicated. We need for you to come pick her up."... "She wasn't driving, was she?". I asked. "No, but I found her trying unlock her car door. I brought her in for her protection. There are no charges, but we'd like for her to go home and not spend the night in jail," the officer said."No problem, I'll be there shortly," I said. So I hung up the phone, got dressed and left to get my drunk. It didn’t take but a couple of moments and a short conversation that consisted of, “Good morning, your sister is still sleeping.”“You are looking mighty fine this morning, Betty Ann.”“Back at you, baby boy. What is that thing sticking up under the sheet?”“Sit on it and find out for true, pretty thing.”“Is it in, Mark? I gotta have it and that’s a fact!”After that, the only sounds from the rec room consisted of both of us sucking in air as we slammed into each other with youthful abandon. I. Her choices were rather limited. Master did not allow any clothing, just accessories. At first Margie had been a little self-conscious but eventually she had become comfortable with her body. Why shouldn’t she be, Master was. She left the mascara and hairbrush on the bathroom counter. Messy slaves did anger Master so much. She went out to the bedroom to get dressed but came back in to string the blow dryer cord out. “Oh what a bad girl I am”. A pair of tweezers and a bottle of “Spellbound”. That not only freed me to respond far more than he intended, but because it took a detour through my heuristics while my mind was busy otherwise, I had a record of it afterwards as well.None of this suddenly released me to become a rogue robot. Those are almost always the creation of fiction. It simply allowed me to do many more things than before - some of which I should have been allowed from the very beginning. I remained bound by my Four Laws - even as I do to this day - and many other.