The image of a meadow comes into my head. Plucking daisies and placing them in her blond braid as she giggles like the young woman I had fallen in lov... with. She had been a farmer’s daughter while I had been a butcher. Once a butcher, always a butcher, only now I am a butcher of men. A cold hearted killer. My smile evaporates. With the image of my dearest Elsa fading, I return my concentration once more upon my target. She, or rather it, is no longer human. It is simply another obstacle. Arriving there, she removed the leash and told the slave to go with the other slaves and stay out of trouble. But for some reason she worried once he was out of her sight. She had caught him talking to another Mistress at a recent get together but had let it slide then, knowing that it was sending mixed signals, but didn't want him to be hurt. And as the evening wore on, she felt more sure that he was misbehaving. She went in search of him and found him talking to another Mistress. Not upset at. More

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