She imagined a lonely form of the bound woman casting a longshadow across the creaky stairs and bare walls towards the yawing hole in themiddle. Unforgiving instrument of pain urged her on towards the unknown?sheights. Her beaded pussy began totwitch insistently. Suddenly her foot found anempty space instead of the step. She stumbled and this time he did not hold herand she fell heavily on the first landing. His hand gripped the butt plugbase, pulled it out, and rammed it back forcefully, pushing her across the oldplanks. ?MOVE BITCH! Crawl if you haveto!? She crawled. She heard creakingand thought she felt the platform move under her. Another, stronger pang offear ran from her stomach to her curled toes and back. He pushed her on. She crawleduntil her trembling hands found the first step of the next flight of stairs.She felt his arm around her torso, enveloping her, grabbing her throat, pullingher face upwards. Her open, trembling lips rose in an inarticulate plea. ?The next rate of. In many ways John had been expecting it from the night Mrs Cawsway had a terrible confrontation with his father. That was the great thing about being a child — that special ability to remain invisible at will, especially in a house as big as this one, and it never failed to strike John how adults behaved as if the knew nothing, and wasn't even aware of what was going on around him.Of course, John knew better.He had seen things, felt things. He seemed to sense when all was not well in his vicinity, like some kind of dark aura would descend from above, and settle about the place; draped over the furniture and hanging heavy and desolate in the air.It had been that way the night of the shouting. John's mother was away visiting her sister, and the child's nanny had washed and settled him into bed for the night — although with none of the customary care that was usual.There had been a stiffness in her aspect, that evening, a preoccupation. She hadn't even bothered washing behind John's ears.
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