On the next day, I rode straight to Amanda's place since my scheduled rendezvous was still twelve hours off and found that, indeed, she had been hauled off, kicking and cussing, by some redcoats about a week before and not heard from since. One of the girls said she knew who had taken Amanda, at least who's company it was and gave me that name. I did some more prying, found their location and spent some shillings in the locals seeking bits and pieces of information without much success.As the sun set I rested on the basement doors behind the empty house and waited for my British master to arrive. First came the man with the pistol and a blindfold which I meekly accepted. Then came the lighter footsteps and the same syrupy voice."Well, what have you for me?" My company's Foster's," I said, "Lieutenant Michael Foster of Rhode Island, I think, all volunteers, scouts. Only one, other than me that comes into this area, is a fellow named George. Don't know his last name. He's about this. I had no idea how she was doing it, not the slightest, but somehow, I felt myself get wrapped in unbreakable shackles. “Stay!” she ordered once again and went back into the house. This time, she didn’t take as long, and she was soon back with an assortment of thin white ropes in her hand. I didn’t even try to question her or protest when she wrapped one of these around my legs in a figure-eight pattern, just above my knees, nor did I when she repeated this around my ankles. But then my eyes shot wide open when she brushed against my left breast and also wrapped a rope around it. “What…” I tried to ask. She didn’t let me finish. “You’ll see.” She tightened the loop enough so it would definitely not slip off, then tied a knot and pulled on it to make sure it didn’t slip. The base of my breast was tightly compressed, and when I looked down, it stood lewdly away in a perfect orb. She made me lift my hand close to my breast and tied the end of the rope around it, leaving perhaps twelve.
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