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How much time passed I could not tell, and although I tried to sleep or rest my body no longer obeyed my orders. At length we reached a pillar, carved with such detailed bas-reliefs as I have never seen before. One face among the many reliefs of this column, which stretched more than two stories above me, reappeared in each scene I glimpsed. I am horrified to this moment as I recall it, for I knew it to be my own face. These were records of all my mistakes. Lies I had told were etched word for word in the stone. Others portrayed me stealing various objects, with the misappropriated items at the center of the scenes. The hardest ones to look at were the ones with me passing by crowds of emaciated people, the needy and hungry, with my face looking on in calm indifference. Amidst these carvings it was evident that nothing was hidden, for all of these things I had indeed done and all were archived here in all their besplendored shamefulness. The man spoke now after his great silence,. He felt his blood quicken. Her physical proximity was quickly becoming overwhelming, more so than usual. There was something about her out of character quietness, her docility as she sat by his knee, that intrigued him. “I watch you all the time in the paddock,” Bobbie said at last. Fredric was glad of the benign subject and sighed quietly with relief, but the feeling wasn't to last. “I watch you training the horses,” the girl confessed, her gaze dropping as though her courage was fast fading. She ploughed on before her nerve was lost altogether. “You're so strong, so powerful... So very much in control. Very much the master.” Her hand had left his knee and begun to climb. Fredric's heart jumped but he stayed perfectly still, listening. His pants had begun to noticeably tent. “Sometimes I dream at night,” Bobbie continued, “that I am the one you control... that you're my master.” She paused to meet his gaze. “That beneath your hands you bend my flesh to your will. I would do.
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