They got the credit and the abuse, I got transfered out of the country. We were all thrilled. From that I got my first lesson about how things work. I... isn't what you do that counts, it's what people think you do, for which you must account. I was not a hero, but I also didn't go to jail. It seemed like a fair exchange." I was fourteen, a drunken man tried to rob my mother of her pension check. I stabbed him with a sharp broom handle. I doubt anyone would have even bothered about it, if I had. I grab my stomach, nails digginginto my sides, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. It's not acomfortable feeling.The skin between my now-smooth thighs splits. A line of blood seepsforth, racing down my curved ass. I can feel things moving in there. Iwant to touch it. To feel it. It calls to me. An emptiness that begsto be filled. It's cool and nearly senseless for a moment and then itflares up as nerves reconnect, hot and wet. A new scent fills the airand I moan quietly, squirming. More

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