Monsters! Monsters!One could weep for them.Oh yes, one could weep for them if one had any tears left which had not already been shed on oneself.As I l...e chained and naked in my cell, I know they will come again for me soon. For the amusement of my Mistress.Leo, new slave of the six-teen year old KarenaThat afternoon, they killed me as man.They did not snuff out of my life. That would have been pointless, but they flogged out what remaining guts and manhood were left in me.She-devils!Six-teen. The one Polly Tarantella likes most, Rambling Woman, has the sort of verse you’d imagine a Romantic poet like William Wordsworth might have penned given all its references to valleys, mountains and glades grazed on by sheep, rabbit and deer. It reminds me of the American folk song The Wayfaring Stranger, which Polly also mentions although I guess the version she’s most familiar with is the one by Jack White rather than, say, Johnny Cash or Emmylou Harris. Then there’s Mercy Mistress which is. ”“I get it, you went with a bigger, better deal when it came along. That’s understandable.”“I think Paul really loved me, but he was a young liberal arts major with no clear prospects ahead of him. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do in the long run. Meanwhile, I got a Mustang convertible I bought with the money I had made for myself.”“Still, I feel a bit sorry for him.”“Don’t be. By that point, I had joined the newspaper he was on, and I stayed there for the last two years. I heard all. " She finished that statement with a low chuckle.Absolutely astounded I hardly knew what to do. I was somewhat embarrassed by the situation as well as being extremely turned on. How could I be so embarrassed in front of the person I have shared so much of myself with? I had kept myself compartmentalized in so many different closets before I met Judy, and now the situation was so open that it was frightening. Everything that made me excited and happy was now locked in this one booth and I was.