Things were usually extremely quiet, as if the town was comatose, and given the amount of beer consumed in front of televised football games, there was a perfectly reasonable and likely reason for the town to sleep so deeply that it didn't even snore.Now the town was having a nightmare; a timid-looking one that didn't break much of a sweat on the town's collective brow.The woman who was interrupting the soporific flow of Sunday evening had come in almost silently, wearing expensive-looking black pumps and a blue-gray pantsuit that probably didn't come from Wal-Mart.She wasn't a local, or at least hadn't grown up in or around Warren Hill, because her accent was very non-southern. He couldn't place it, exactly, except that it sounded a little New Englandish.One thing was certain, though. She was clearly upset, albeit in a very resigned, subdued way."I know but..." stammered the woman. She reached into her large handbag and pulled from it an older looking tape machine. "Look, I have a. She'd toyed, once, with the idea of calling him Hound- or rather, Master Hound, but the idea had seemed too silly to put into play. Besides, there was a chance that he'd have her punish herself if she called him something that he hadn't already approved of.Their chat always ended the same way- first Stacie, then her master, invited the other to view their webcam. Then they began to hear each other's voices. The games for the night had begun."You look lovely," he said, looking at the girl with the long brown skirt and green tube top.She still smiled every time he said that. The outfit was his order, but she knew that he just wanted her to look good. "Thank you, sir," she dutifully replied. She knew what was coming next, but waited for his order all the same."Take it off," he said offhandedly, and leaned back to watch the show. She got out of the tube top first, and it was obvious that she didn't wear a bra underneath it. Instead, as a poor semblance of decency, a X made from duct tape.
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