You have no rights. Do you want a drink of water, slave?"Cathy struggle to control her temper. She knew she should not provoke the man. He was obvious...y a madman. But she could not bring herself to call him "Master". And she hated the demeaning way he called her "slave". Even his use of "Cathy" made her feel that he was talking to a child rather than a grown woman and an officer in her county‘s Army." Yes, I do. But I will not call you master to get one. I have no master. I am not a slave. I am. .."Fuck" he moaned again "Bernie" he snapped "these ropes are fucking minging!" "Just get on with it" barked Bernie. Billy muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "Fucking horse Jiz!" But he continued with the task. He carefully untangled the ropes and then wiped his hands on Jackie's bum cheeks and back. Still grumbling, but undeterred he pushed Jackie's thighs up against the edge of the bales and threw the ropes out to the side. He then parted her knees and looped the rope around the length. They were financially well off through some mysterious investments he had made and, with his salary as a professor and her salary as a professor at another college, they were doing quite well and treated us to everything (I don't think I ever picked up a check).We were unemployed other than those sub teaching jobs. It was one of those economic downturns and we couldn't find anything that paid decently nor did we have much of an idea of what we wanted 'to do' with our lives. Frankly, we were. I remember when I was about 6 or 7 and the family used to go visit her. I remember how she would expect us kids, my sister and I, to sit on the floor quietly beside her rocker and let the adults talk. If we started to say anything, it would result in a knuckle rapping down on our heads. And to make it worse, mom and dad never said a thing about it. I believe I can still feel scar tissue under my scalp to this day."It's just the way Grandma is Pete," my dad would often say. "She whacked my head.