The chill air makes me shiver under the bathrobe and the friction of the terry cloth makes my nipples stand out, as if I was excited. I walk on the grass towards the pit. The moonlight bathes the backyard in its blue light. The oiled spit gleams on its iron supports over the charcoal filled pit. Dad set it up yesterday, the kindling, covered by the charcoal, and the four long wicks of rolled cotton that sink to the bottom of the pit, to light it. In between the regular charcoal he mixed self lighting one, to make sure it will light up easily. I helped him set it up, another family tradition I could have done without. A can of lighter fluid to soak the cotton wicks sits nearby.I shiver again, and I know it is not from the cold.The eastern sky begins to turn light.I should return to the house but something keeps me outside. After yesterday's party, no one will be up early today.Under the awning, the hardwood spitting table sits; the straps at the legs of the table await my ankles and. When she realized screaming was not working she tried questioning.“Where am I?” she asked groggily.One more hard slap, and then an explanation. “If you want to ask a question, you need to ask permission.”“I’m sorry. May I ask a question, sir?” After 3 slaps that hard, she would have called anyone sir.“Yes you may. As to where you are, you are on a boat which is at sea. The boat will take us to an island where you will begin a new life as a slave. As long as we are on the boat, you will still act in every way as a slave. For now, that is the only question you are allowed.” Then anothermeasured injection of the sedative into her I.V. and she fell back asleep.Since Pamela was asleep, and Michael had been awakened out of a sound sleep, he felt that her violation was only fair. Since she was already naked, and had no chance of waking up, he removed her tethers, stripped off his nightclothes, and climbed into bed with her. While the girls had slept, the trio had decided to shave.
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