Naturally he would soon find out. But first, a needed intermission.
By the time the ladies were ready for dinner, the predicted calamitous collapse came. Limp as a rag-doll, Bobby could not even remain upright, much less respond satisfactorily to abuse. They simply had to let him rest while they ate and spent the evening watching cable TV and enjoying the other amenities. Freeing him from the gag at last, they hogtied him and dumped him in the bathtub, where he could urinate if necessary throughout the long night.
“Rest well, Boy-toy,” Toni gleamed at him, the last to exit the bathroom. “Tomorrow we’ll do it all again, all day and night!” Considerately she switched off the light and closed the door.
Bob Carlyle was unconscious before his head thumped the bottom of the tub.
