Looking back at the beast she weighed her options. An injured animal was always more deadly but the hurt look in his eyes made her mind up for her. Th... key? She whispered. The beast looked slowly over at a table that was a good 100 yards away. Pressing his lips together, he attempted to muffle his cries of pain. Amanda stood and quickly but quietly moved to the table. Overed in beer cans and discarded oyster shells, she found a book and a key sitting together. Taking the key, she made her way. The moment had symbolism, filling the air like fog on a Canadian November morning. I tried to find something to say, something deep, but the words left me, and I simply whispered “Yours, my Mistress.” She smiled, then snapped the book shut and placed it in our bookshelf - the one right next to the entrance - at eye level. I gulped. “Let’s have something to eat. I brought scampi salad and white bread.” My stomach growled in answer, and we both had to giggle. A while later I found myself kneeling. More

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