The Butcher’s Wife
Meat was his stock and trade, every cut imaginable. His hands came to know how to handle all types, perfectly kneading or man-handling flesh.
It had started with the sausages…what things she did with the sausages! “It’s not heathy,“ he’d reprimanded. But his wife demanded satisfaction.
One day they were in the meat locker together; the cold stood her n*****s at attention. It seemed only natural that she end up stripped and tied to a meat hook. Their escapades continued for months, she screaming “Yes master!” within those frosty confines.
Was it healthier? The unannounced health inspector didn’t think so.
