The Flesh Eaters Read Online Free PDF Page A

barks. The men urge him on, and he increases the volume until, head thrown back, he is howling.
    For a few minutes the Master and Andrews are convulsed with laughter, and then they return to their wine. Sawney Beane slinks back to his corner. His eyes have a black intensity as he stares at the men.
    Soon the wine pitcher is empty, and the Master shouts into the house, “Meg! Meg! Bring us more wine! We are thirsty dog trainers, and we require more wine!”
    After a brief delay, Meg enters carrying another pitcher. She wears her usual blank, sullen expression. Not looking at either of the men, she sets the pitcher on the table hard enough to spill a little wine. As she turns to go, the Master catches her by the arm, pulls her closer, and holds her around the waist. Meg stands stiffly in his grasp, but does not offer resistance.
    “Well, Andrews, you haven’t said. What do you think of my little girl? Though she’s not very little anymore” The Master squeezes Meg’s plump hip.
    “She’s turned into a fine, lusty-looking wench.” Andrews nudges the Master in the ribs. “You must get a great deal of pleasure from having a fine daughter like that.”
    “Oh, that I do, you can be sure. She looks more like her dead mother every day. Particularly around the belly.” Keeping his firm grip around her waist, the Master runs his other hand over Meg’s slightly rounded stomach. “And up here.” He puts his hand on her left breast and squeezes it roughly.
    Andrews’s eyes bulge even more than usual.
    “More like her mother all the time.” The Master puts his hand inside the top of Meg’s dress and squeezes her breast again, giving a sigh of contentment. Then he pulls down the front of the loose fitting dress so that one white, full breast, its dark nipple erect, is revealed. “Look at that. It makes you wish you were a babe again and could spend the entire day just suckling there.” He moves as if to kiss the nipple. Meg keeps him back, but she cannot get out of his tight grasp.
    Andrews’s mouth has gone dry, and he runs his tongue over his parched lips before responding. “That it does. I find myself developing quite a thirst—even a hunger, you might say.”
    “Well, never let it be said that I am a miserly host who lets his guests go away hungry. Meg, come and greet Master Andrews, who is a great friend of mine.”
    Meg resists, but the Master passes her to Andrews, who also grips her securely around the waist. He is greatly excited by the look and feel of Meg’s body. He squeezes her hip and runs his hand over her stomach and up to her exposed breast. The touch of the hard nipple in his palm sends a flash of sensation directly to his groin. He tries to pull Meg onto his knee, but she resists, her expression still stony and sullen.
    “She is a fiery, lusty mare, but she does not know her position,” Andrews says, struggling to pull Meg to him. “What she needs is a man to put the bit between her teeth and hold a tight rein while he rides her bareback.” He squeezes the firm flesh of her thigh. “Let me mount you, my fine Meg, and give you a riding lesson. What do you say?”
    He moves to kiss her, but Meg manages to pull free, leaving him clumsily embracing air. She steps back, rearranges her dress and walks slowly away from the two men.
    Sawney Beane has observed everything. Anger flashes in his eyes, but he remains silent, his body limp, his mouth an idiot grin.
    Andrews laughs with false heartiness to cover his rebuff. “That girl needs to be taught obedience. You will not find a husband for her unless she has been properly broken.”
    The Master has grown tired of Andrews. “I guess she did not fancy you for a rider. You had better stay with training dogs. And leave me to worry about obedience. Now drink up.”
    “No. I’ve got to be going home/’
    “Or else your wife will make you regret your tardiness?”
    Andrews blushes. “Or else she will not get her beating for tonight.”
    “Oh? Stick