But for now we must work in the garden or we will go hungry." The rest of the day blurred into pulling weed after weed, crushing rock after rock and h...uling buckets of water. It was a wonder that I didn't wear grooves into my shoulders from hauling buckets of water on ropes.I remember that it wasn't long after that, that I traded a farmer who made shoulder yokes his skill for mine--I smoothed and pressed together the rocks making up his cottage so that the wind wouldn't blow in, the roof. Even gravity loses its meaning since I have no control whatsoever as to the fucking I am receiving. I am completely at the mercy of whoever it is who is holding me up and slamming me down on whichever dick they decide to impale me on. It is a wonderful feeling and I laid there in my bed and reveled in the filthiness of the memory.I was startled out of my dirty little daydream by the sound of my husband's voice saying, “Good morning you filthy cheating little cockwhore!” I looked at him and I. More

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