Ten years later, and we were still spending an evening a week together, give or take. At forty to my thirty eight, Mhairi was a classic redhead with t...e smooth pale skin, copper hair and freckles of the true Northerner. At 5’8” with a EE bust and hips to match, Ruebens and Titian would have fought to the death to paint her, no question.Pulling her head back slightly, her mouth slack but with all her senses clearly on alert, Mhairi rubbed her cheek against my shaft. I laid my finger against the. “I want all the names. All the names you used.”“Beat me Karajan beat me!” “I’m not fucking around Jocasta. This is not a game. This is not a fucking game! Milena died. You trained her! You kitty programmed her you goddamn WHORE!”“Karajan,” I mutter, “Please…please fuck me...”Karajan back hands me. Fresh blood creeps from my upper right lip, where it cut against my teeth. Karajan is not satisfied. He stands, paces—addressing the room, as if it were filled with spectators, as if it were. More

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