. I can’t. . . it’s pervert. . .” She was crying, now.“Piss yourself, right now!” John didn’t care her protests. “I’m your master, lit...le one, don’t forget. . . I’m in charge. . . go ahead, baby. . . piss. . . piss!”“Do it, mommy. . . please. . . do it. . .” it was Scott. The vision of his mother at the full mercy of the big stud had aroused again the sexual desire of Carol’s son, who was anxious, now, to watch another step of her debasing and abuse.“Do it, mom,” he continued. “Nobody knows!. He could marry and bear children. He could swim in the currents of the salty ocean. And he could witness the birth of a new day. Pieter sighed and as if in a stupor, shuffled over to the end table, selected a shiny scalpel from the tray and neatly opened the vein on his left wrist, the blood puddling, then dripping into the sanitized beaker. Back to the beginning … ***** ‘We’re here, Mr. Chambliss.’ If Richard Chambliss heard the chauffeur’s voice through the intercom, he paid it no particular. More

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