CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
“All and all,” Wyatt lit his cigarette and leaned back in his chair to prop his boot heels on the gal’s ass. “I would call that a successful hunt.”
We were sitting on the front porch where we could watch the driveway. Wyatt had given the gal a throw rug to kneel on while she waited. When she thanked him for it, he told her not to get any ideas that the rug was for her comfort. It was just to keep her clean until the buyer arrived.
She was a neat little package. Once she was settled on her knees, Wyatt connected her collar to her ankle cuffs with a chain that was so short she had to put her face on the rug.
Earlier, back in the butcher shop, we had given her a last clean out with the hose. Wyatt used some kind of d**k-shaped douche nozzle that the new owner had sent a
