Critics, on the other hand, are simply peculiar.I suppose some sort of exposition of my dream might be in order. But somehow that seems more likely to...be a story for another place or another time. Of course that all depends on if I remember it the same way when the right time finally comes to tell it.I wouldn't wager any large sums of money on itBesides, there's always the chance I won't give a shit about that stupid dream by the time I'm ready to talk about it. By then, the damn maggots might. I would be wrecked. I would never leave him, of course, but I would enjoy being fucked yet in tears. Ringing the doorbell, I heard him calling from inside, "Come in." I did as he said, the door was unlocked. I walked in and the room was dark. Everything in his house was dark. "Where are you?" I called to him. "Upstairs, where else?" I heard him growl. He wasn't in a good mood. Even as my Master and my fucker, he almost always talked to me tenderly; kindly. This day was an exception.I was. More

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