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inst Roger; in a fight like that, anything could happen.
I was bracing myself to scream when John stopped the beating.
"Time for a different game," he said. He untied the ropes hold-
ing me in place, and pushed me to the floor. My arms and legs
were still chained; he further secured my by tying my handcuffs
to my waist. Finally, he tied another rope to my leg chains and
dragged me, feet first, towards the barn.
My sense of panic, which had vanished when I heard Roger's voice,
returned in full measure. Could Roger follow us and not be
noticed? Did Roger even know where we were going? Was there a
place for him to hide in the barn? I didn't know, and it worried
me.
If I'd known what Roger was up to, I'd have been even more wor-
ried. He hadn't even been in the house during the whipping!
Rather, he'd been out searching John's car, an action that was
ultimately to prove very helpful, but almost got him caught at
the time.
When we reached the gravel drive, I couldn't hold in my screams
any longer. I was being dragged face down, and the rocks raking
across my breasts were too much to bear. John dropped me, swore,
and came over to investigate. "Maybe I should have dragged you
by the hair;
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