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"If you don't chug it, you will receive a lash on your cunt with my rubber hose for every extra sip you need. And if you spill anything or vomit anything back up... Now start drinking bitch. Let's have a countdown."All the guys started counting down. When they got to "1" I started drinking. I certainly knew the taste of cum but this was different. The smell of it filled my nostrils. And the texture made it difficult to drink large amounts. After a few gulps it started sticking in my throat. I had to stop or else I would have started to spill it.In the end I had to stop 15 times but I finally managed to drink it all. In the hope of pleasing my masters, I wiped out the pitcher with my finger too and licked every last drop."Your cunt's gonna be sore later. But we'll do that later. I've got a harness upstairs that's perfect for cunt whipping. The game's starting. Get us some beers and chips."And with that they all left, leaving me in the kitchen to load up a tray of. Gunga Din nods to me as well and turns to give young Galahad a hand back up."The grass is fine, Galahad, but you can not spend you life huddle in a ball by the gate," he says in his usual calm tone."I don't care where I spend my life," Galahad comes back. "Just as long as I don't have to get back into that thing." He waves an accusatory hand to the Hummer."It's an acquired taste," Gunga Din agrees and makes a sour face.I don't stick around for the rest. I am sure that Galahad is in good hands with Gunga Din, he must be used to this kind of behavior as he has a younger brother after all.I quickly trot off, I head around the outskirts of the cabins to the sprinkle of them along the west front. This time I do not stop to admire the layout of cabins, I just rush in to the home-coming I know is waiting for me."I am home," I sing out as I step through the door. With a quick push I slam it closed to keep the cold from drifting in.Saul is standing by the stove finishing what looks to be.
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On the other side he dressed. His right boot was gone, somewhere in the river. In anger, his other boot soon followed the first. He thought of his comment to Reloa. It didn't matter, he'd run bare-footed before. Eventually he stopped shivering, looked up at the steep cliff. He began the climb. Over the top of the cliff, where he couldn't be seen from the river, was a game trail. He stuffed some moss into his knitted socks to add some small protection and began to run north. Not all was lost from his training, he could still ignore pain.Ree'al's ruse worked. After looting the campsite, the twelve men who came for Reloa followed his path down the river. The men were dark with skin like leather. Nomads and mercenaries from the eastern desert, they were burned by its sun and dry desert air. They wore grey cloth robes, and each man carried a single sword. These straight swords were longer and thicker than a dinja. The men were thin and hardened by the desert. In crossing the river as he.

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