My whimpering and mewling while watching them f**k had clearly been an aphrodisiac to them before. But that was then, as they say, and this is now. “Shut up, Slut-boy!” Mistress orders. “I don’t want to hear a peep out of you all night long. Or I’ll have Eric here piss in your face, and make you drink it!”
And with that she turns off the lamp, beginning my most terrible torment yet.
Unable to sleep, the night that follows is a cramped, endless horror, with present agonies constantly competing with new and old memories. The need to suppress my sobs only adds to the torture, and morning comes as an inexpressible relief, even though the two of them once again f**k each other silly as soon as they awake. But after breakfast Eric finally leaves, and Mistress at last frees me from the cage, if
