She blinked. "About George... I want to know how you managed it."'fit was simple," Felicia paused. "George knows all about it." She let the statement ...ang.Charlotte's face reddened with shock, then blazed with rage. "The rotten bastard!" she snarled maliciously, her jaw tight. "The dirty rotten fuckin' bastard!" She was breathing hard, anger welling up inside of her small, compact body.Felicia stroked Charlotte's slender leg. "Think about it for a moment, Lotty. George did you a favor." Her. .. well... like a torture chamber. You know. Like in the inquisition. Not like in Iraq or some shit hole. Somewhere where they treat you properly as they torture you. Like a witch or someone. You know. Strappado. Rack. Hot things. Spikes. Ropes. Whips. Dark places and flaming torches and flickering shadows.'Poetic' I say.Yeah. She says. Poetic. Pain poetry. We should write a book.And you? She says.Hmmm. I guess the same. I say. Or an old bedstead and electricity on my tits and cunt.And him? She. More

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