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306 Words
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The events of the meaningful encounter with the Slavic woman roll through my head as I casually stroll about stimulated in having Douglas follow in abject obedience to a feminine thumb and forefinger, similar to that which began his fall into the abyss of complete capitulation.
Years ago, as part of my psychiatric training, I read of the horrors of the Pol Pot regime in Cambodia during which hundreds of thousands were tortured and exterminated. Documented were tales of the jailers’ amusement in forcing helpings of excrement on their captives, the soon to be executed. So dehumanizing, I imagine it to be the final loss, of all pride, of the will to exist, the forced act so foul and so much epitomizing their helplessness.
Curious how Douglas’s captors seem to have used a similar tactic, only not for amusement per se, but to extract what they wanted. Minimal lasting physical harm, permanent mental damage?
As stated, Douglas, told to strip naked in my office, sang like a canary after nearly forty minutes of me futilely cajoling for information while he remained clothed.
And now I have him leashed.
“You are to make me dinner, Douglas. Then more bondage for you.”
I release my light yet thoroughly controlling grip. When he stands I gently slap that impressive smooth and hairless derriere and send him to my kitchen. I follow to where I have installed a length of rubber coated cable. Padlocked to the radiator, I attach the free end to Douglas’s hobbling strap. It is important that he never feel the relief of unfettered movement. The cable is long enough for kitchen duty, and though a nice heavy chain would be ideally symbolic, the hushing rubber of the cable will permit him to work noiselessly. I have neighbors.
While he labors, I think I will prepare my Sybian for an evening ride.
- Writer
