It wasn’t too long before Stan was rigid. He delved lower, and found Anne’s folds were damp with arousal. Anne’s hand, pulling at him, left no d...ubt as to her intentions, so they repositioned themselves, he between her legs which Anne held knees bent and thighs almost flat against the bed to the sides. She murmured, ‘ballet lessons’ to him as he lined himself up, but it was Anne who pulled him into her, Anne who urged him on, Anne who was in charge. Stan tried his best, he really did, but. It was a chance to dry off and to try to understand the strange, written conversation she had just had with the Bane. There was no question that the woman had gone around the bend, if only a little. Why wouldn’t she want to have her story told? Was she afraid of the repercussions? Or had she simply gotten so accustomed to living as a Bane that she had forgotten how to live any other way? Katrina had heard of prisoners becoming institutionalized to the point of being unable to function outside. More

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