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Unformatted text preview: next day she did not fight when he tied her up, and this time it was with the masking tape he'd brought back the day before, and quite impossible to break. He was going to tape her mouth when she advised him calmly that she might smother. He settled on a less painful and efficient gag. She went mad struggling after he left. It did no good. Nothing did any good. The milk leaked from her breasts. She was sick, and the room spun. The following afternoon, after they had made love, he lay on top of LASHER her, heavy, sweet, his soft black hair between her breasts, his left hand on her right hand, dreaming, humming. She was not tied. He had cut the tape cuffs and let them dangle. He would make new ones when he wanted them. She looked at the top of his head, at the shining black mane, she breathed in the scent of him, and pressed her body against his weight, and then lapsed back half into sleep for an hour. Still he had not waked up. He was breathing deeply. She reached over with her left hand and picked...
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- Spring '10