As we left the woods and headed for home I looked at the fuel gauge and to my horror saw that the needle was on empty!"What the hell do we do? We are ...lmost out of fuel," I said to Sally Anne."Go to a garage and fill up," she said and seeing the look of horror on my face she went on, "We can say we are going to a fancy dress party".I saw no option as to run out would prove even more of an embarrassing situation. I filled into a petrol station and stopped by the pumps on the far side and got. Down her cheek. Blood poured out. He shoved her so she fell to the floor, chair and all, with a loud crack. She screamed. He spun to me. "She not just a girl! She's a culture girl." She writhed on the floor, still screaming, still bound do the chair. He turned his back to her and walked to me. "The slave of a culture girl might cry, when we carve on her. But from a culture girl herself I expect better." He reached and touched my stitches. "I know. Until she stops crying, I'll torture you. Do. More

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