I came to no conclusions before lunch.I came to no conclusions before lunch. The arrangements were much like those at breakfast, though with a minor new wrinkle: I was bound to the chair at my waist, and my captor actually put a bib on me! Don't laugh too much -- the strap was just more bondage, and a bib is simply practical when you're being fed by someone. But Roger never saw it like that -- he claimed that it seemed to him to be too suggestive of pedophilia, and besides licking any stray food off was fun. My captor had done that at breakfast, just like Roger would, but not at lunch. Cleanup was as before; I was forced to kneel head-down while he washed up. Again, he kept pausing to touch and rub me; again, I was ready to explode by the time he picked me up. Instead of heading for the bedroom this time, though, he carried me down to the cell in the basement. He gently put me on the padded floor -- after the episode with John, I decided that bare cement wasn't acceptable even for playing -- unlocked my legs, and aroused me quite thoroughly. But I couldn't touch him, with my arms bound, and suddenly I heard a click -- he had locked me in, and left! I tugged at my bonds, to no avail, and tried to rub up against the bars. It didn't work too well, but I achieved some release, and sat down. While trying to get comfortable, I discovered that I'd been left a pillow; I managed to lay down with it between my legs, and satisfied myself a bit more. With that out of the way, I resumed my mental debate about my position -- while locked in a cell, blindfolded, and with my hands quite thoroughly bound behind my back. I started out by listing what I was certain of: that my captor might or might not be Roger, that Roger was certainly involved in the affair, and that physically I had no complaints at all -- the sex was wonderful, and it was certainly an imaginative way to play. |