Now if he had something to go with it, he could produce a stew come winter – if his meat was actually preserved, and if he could find some vegetable... to go in the pot with it.He cautiously went down to the stream to wash his hands and arms, never letting his drying meat out of his sight. Damn, I can smell it way down here, he thought as he looked back up the hill. No telling how far the animals can detect it.Each time the fire blazed up too much, he covered it with green branches and leaves to. She was more timid around him, more apt to do what he asked her to. Her dissent into teenage rebellion had been all but broken the night he'd raped her in his bedroom, when he'd spanked her and fucked her and made her cum harder than she ever had before or ever had since. After realizing the alternative to living with him-which was living with strangers in some foster care home at God knew where-she'd known she was stuck. Her only hope was to avoid getting him angry at her again.And it had. More

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