The cure for her, according to Mrs. Olsen, was that she was given a thorough stropping, forced to take a number of tablespoons of castor oil, thank Mr.... Olsen for each one, stropped some more, and then given a large mouthful of Mrs. Olsen's shit to eat, a tablespoonful at a time. I overheard this and never forgot it. And, I am sure, I masturbated about it a thousand times. That was my fantasy. I wanted to be taken over by somebody who disliked me, stripped, spanked thoroughly, made to eat her. Things out there. We can’t hope to fight them all off.”“I know,” her husband acknowledged, glancing out the window at the shadowy figures banging on the sides of the house. “I’m trying to think of a way out, but I’m drawing a blank.”“Maybe I can try something?” Lisa Maria offered. “I can run outside and start the truck so you can hurry out and jump in.”“Honey, we’re not about to risk you venturing out. These things smell blood and will rip anything living apart. You got lucky before, but now. More

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