I like you ... uh ... you ... err...” The young woman pointed towards Cynthia’s legs.“My yoga pants?”“Mmm, yes ... yoga pants.”Cynthia gri...ned, “I think they make my butt look good.” She stood and turned her back on Lanying, bending forwards slightly. Cynthia wore no underwear beneath the stretched fabric and she knew it was pulled tightly into her crotch, enough that her vulva was pronounced. “You like?”Lanying giggled, “I like.”It had been a week since the night spent with the voyeur. Cynthia. "Can we come see her now?" Not yet. I'll wait until she's comfortable, then you can come over." I turned back to the girl. "Anyway, they call me 'Master'. You said that too, didn't you?" She nodded again. "So, you can call me that if you want. Do you have a name?"Unlike Momo and Sonja, I had not given this girl a name, no one had. Would she come up with one herself?"No, I don't," she murmured, looking away as if ashamed. I almost expected her to start crying."OK, then I'll give you a name. From. . that's you," he blinked his chocolate eyes at the dark haired girl who cowered in the sofa, one leg hugged up to her chest, her dimpled chin resting on her knee,"... are supposed to be married to a Christopher O'Brien and supporting two children." He flung the letter to the side table and feigning a glare, thrust his hands in his pockets and resumed his pacing.Silence fell on the room, broken only by the dull crackle of a radio that hummed out Bob Dylan's "Dear Landlord... put a price on my. Her body was glistening under the hot light of the torture room,tiny sparkles of energy against the backdrop of her olive-tan skin. She pulledat the bonds holding her to the table, the muscles in her arms and legs standingout against the shine of her flesh as she began to weep from the torment. Maria could only watch as the woman turned her face towards the mirroredglass, the agony etched in the lines of her face as tears streamed from hereyes to mix with the sweat of her body. Maria began to.
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