"Cold?" her voice contained a hint of menace. "Are you complaining aboutyour special panties, you ungrateful little sissy?" How wonderfully shecould p...ay him, verbally as well as in action. How alert she was toopportunities to create a scene in which both felt the utterlyintoxicating symbolism of him as yielding and obedient submissive andshe as taker and user of the power he surrendered."No, Mistress," he quickly replied. "I'm not complaining, but thepanties are cold." He never, ever in any of. Their eyes met, even at this distance she could make out that familiar twinkle. She could see the smile on his lips when he raised his hand and waved. She could feel her throat constrict. For she knew as soon as he cleared the ridge at the far end of the glen, he would be gone forever. As he lowered his hand, she caught movement amongst the rocks below and saw one of the hated clansman from her past stand and level his musket at her father, her teacher, her love. She called out a warning,. More

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