<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 1.45em;"><strong>Ashley Browley</strong> and Mr. Slate in the woods</span><br/><br/>Ashley spit the taste of his hands from her mouth as she wretched herself free.<strong>"No, I won't."</strong>She responded to his demand.<strong>"I won't do that for your whim."  </strong><br/><br/>An anger began to grow along with the heady feeling.  Leaning back upon her elbows , she opened her legs,<strong>"If you want to know my taste, find out for yourself."</strong>She dared him.<strong> </strong><br/><br/><br/><strong>Or let me be and I will ride away,"</strong>she spit out.<strong> "I won't be your whore Mr. Slate, and you will not be my monger.   What I offer, I offer freely.   Take it or don't but be warned that I will not suffer ill use meekly. "</strong>Ashley's voice grew more powerful as she spoke and eyes almost seem to glow with a hellish fire of her own.<br/><br/><strong> </strong>