Wise Old Indian Women left them with last words: You are many people, each must find who you must be. ‘Bring your guitar, let’s find a quiet place...’ R wanted to be Tinder to DC’s Spark again. She sat on the grass at his feet. He sat on a boulder and tuned guitar: Suzanne takes you downto her place near the riveryou can hear the boats go byyou can spend the night beside her. . . . Eyes locked, minds joined. R followed humming and singing silent until they reached the finale: . . . .There are. For that’s what I thought of her. I knew that if she were to give me the option, I would eagerly choose a life of servitude to her - with or without (but preferably with) her twins - knowing that she would whip me. Whip me regularly, hard, and long.She’d told me that she intended to ‘un-man’ me. I’d never heard the term before and could only conclude that she meant I’d be psychologically castrated. Subjugated to her Goddess-like rule. A rule that included corporal discipline and service to her. More

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