Our savior moved like a wraith. Silent. Stalking those who had destroyed our home, with deadly intent. The small axe in his hand flashing like the han... of death itself. His dark leather coat spattered with the blood of those who tried to stop him. And then I saw him. Alistair had forced me to watch as he had slit my mother’s throat. His broken smile leering at me as his belly rolled with sadistic laughter. And now he knelt behind one of the slave pens, the same knife that had torn my mother. Slowly, she drops to her knees, washing his ass, and thighs, calves and feet. Getting a handful of soap, she lightly washes his balls and cock, rubbing him in a slightly arousing manner, as she cleans. He groans, and hugs her to him, pressing her face into his hip. She smiles and hugs him back, happy with her life with him. She stands up, and lightly pushes him into the stream of water, watching the soap run off of his body. He tilts his head into the water, and she grabs the shampoo, lightly. More

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