‘Aw, f**k!’ she said. Francesca slapped my hanging t**s, turned on her heel, and left me suspended there, my arms wrenched well above my shoulders. She dashed out of the stables, into the now full on night. Wherever she was headed I hoped it was to stop the interrogation, or at least delay it until I could talk to Nita. Tell her to not mention me, AT ALL, and to not incur the wrath of Conover.
So I hung there, arms still tied behind me and struggled to maintain my balance. Back toward the front of the stable preparations continued as, one by one, teams of ponygirls were hitched up to carts, then paddled out into the night for the masters’ and mistress’ pleasure. But no one noticed one slave, in a stall all the way in back, not getting prepared at all. It was like they all had their assign
