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It is not fear of thatwhich he commands me to do, for that impresses revulsion more than anxiety, butfear at the punishment I know I will get for refusal. And refuse I must. "MyMaster, this slave is truly sorry, but it must decline, Sir." Thepunch, the very first punch to the guts, fells me. I nearly black out and starsflicker in my vision as I fall to hands and knees. I had never expected suchpure violence. I try to get up, but he is putting a chain around my neck. As Itry to rise he helps me with a sharp tug from the pulley above and soon I amstanding staright up with perfect posture, the chain biting into my neck, butnot restricting the blood flow. He grabs my left hand and pulls it quicklytowards the post beside me that make up one side of this frame that he musthave made himself. I try to fight him but two arms are stronger than one, andquickly I am pinioned on that side and then the other. If he punches me againit'll probably kill me. Again that wave of fear crushes me, but. An imperceptible nod to Ashleytold him to take up his cup "pinky out" just like his mistress."Well this is nice," she smiled. Ashley forced a nod, Dale smiled alittle nervously."I suppose you are wondering what this is all about?" said Miss Grace inchatty tones between elegant sips of her tea.Neither Ashley or Dale were going to be drawn into what could be a crueltrap. Dale studied his lemonade intently, Ashley morosely studied thelipstick trace on his tea cup.What stupid stuff lipstick was he thought for the hundredth time. Agesis spent applying the stuff only for it to come off every time you drankor ate, or just faded off of it's own accord. So more time was spentchecking it wasn't smudged, or uneven, or plain worn off. And in thishousehold, under these rules, even more time was spent prissilyreapplying the damned stuff.Miss Grace's question was rhetorical it seemed, since she ploughed onregardless of a lack of any response."Well I think these last few weeks the boss and I are.
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