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Once he has finished buying groceries in the supermarket, he walks with me to the bank, where he has arranged an appointment. I kneel next to him while he talks to the manager and when we leave, I carry the folder containing the paperwork in my mouth and continue to hold it between my teeth when he ties me up again, this time outside the Post Office. Finally, he is done with everything he needs to do in town. "We don't need to rush home, we can take our time," he says. "Get back on your hands and knees, slave." I nod (the folder keeps me from talking) and drop back down to my hands and knees. He keeps my leash tight and I crawl next to him, as he walks slowly home. *** When we return, he sends me to get washed again and instructs me to expect my punishment when I am done. I am nervous about what he will do to me but I am glad that he sees fit to deal with my behaviour. He is serious about me being the best slave I can be and I want to live up to that. I enter the bedroom on my hands. Her thoughts were on a dream she though she remembered, but really couldn’t get the pictures into her head. She knew she had not been alone, but she could see no-one. Eventually, she cleared her head and picked up the first page, ready to transcribe it. She glanced at the sprawling writing, and then, almost as if she understood every word on the page, typed it out, not even looking at the page again.It felt strange, but as she typed, she felt she knew what was happening. The old man was describing a street down which he was walking, and Diane could see the street in her head, smell the people, hear the cries of the dirty kids. It was as if she had been there, with him. The next page also took only a single glance, and she recreated it word for word, including the spelling mistakes. It was uncanny. And it frightened her. The more she typed, the more she felt she was there. No longer seeing what he had written, but seeing what he had seen. Hearing the sounds from the cobbled streets as.
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