Boch’s boys were no where in sight. With the coast clear, he opened the screen and shoved past the inside door. Inside was a small mudroom – farm...sink with an oversized basin on one side, a potter’s bench on the other. Beyond the mudroom was a corridor with dark mahogany ceiling and side panels. From a kitchen off to the left, Moe heard the banging of pots, the baritone voice of a man lauding the praises of russet potatoes for a hot potato salad, and the giggling voice of a female. The right. The only person in the room with her was Rob. The stranger dominating her would communicate with her via the internet. While the individual's orders and degrading comments were fed through an eerily clinical sounding speech synthesiser, coming through loud and clear on a speaker, the video feed was an amateur operation limited to a handful of silent pictures every second. No one except Rob could see her cute writhing or hear her arousing moans and helpless protests until he released the higher. More

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