Chapter Nine
The sound of the opening door interrupts my reverie. I feel the slightest brush of a finger tip on my p***s, soft laughter follows. I am erect and the condition entertains. The anal insertion, my chastity, my recollections, all serve to arouse.
Something touches my lips. It is a spoon.
“You eat.”
It is rice and the taste and feel revolts. For three months in Bangkok, it was all I was afforded. Still the ingrained obedience overpowers, and I fully part my lips to accept. I know there are methods for assuring compliance. If a controlling woman wants me to eat, then I shall eat.
So I am fed like a child. There is nothing quite so humbling and in my Bangkok cell Mila spent inordinate hours spooning the bland nourishment. The daily ration was small and my hunger great. Mila us
