Chapter Thirteen
Iron Junk Party
One colder winter afternoon, Melinda said: “Just for a test, Hank, let's see if you have any talents I can use in the future, before I make any final decisions about what to do with you. I know what to do TO you, but what I do WITH you, long term, is still up in the air, so to speak”.
Hank stood in his usual chilly cell, his collar, ankles and wrists chained to the walls and overhead. Melinda sat in one of what she called her “observation chairs,” studying the lean form of her former husband. He wore the by now all too familiar chastity harness that was locked in place around his now much thinner waist and through his crotch. The somewhat complicated metal assembly served two purposes: first it secured his shrunken junk and confined his c**k to a snug
