Not to my surprise, her back was covered with the same type of welts and scars as the slave girl's back had been."Who did this to you?" I demanded."My...husband," she replied in tears. "I didn't want to do it, but he beat me until I agreed."Estridge interrupted us again, on his return from checking the other rooms."My Lord, you need to see this also," he told us.He led us to a rear room that he had just come from. The old wife lay on the floor. She had been beaten badly, and had died sometime. Somehow we stumbled to the bed without releasing our grip on one another, and fell to the mattress in the classic position, Sarah was flat on her smooth back, my body was on top of hers. Our lips were still firmly attached; our tongues busy exploring; no time or desire to speak.Slowly we became comfortable on the bed, my hands caressing any part of her body in reach, hers reciprocating. Eventually one of my hands slid between her legs, which she willingly parted, and encouraged me to explore. More

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