Two weeks went by without a single word from my jailers. Every morning the rubber dick filled up with my daily food, and every evening I took a shit o...er in the corner by the drain that was under the metal grill. Sometimes I had to use my toes to smush the shit down so it wouldn't be left behind after the nightly shower. I was always tired and didn't want to do anything, but my own programming forced me to exercise my muscles and brain. My food supply was decreased when I actually started to. That was what made this night special. She held her fake I.D. in her hand and kept looking down at it in disbelief. She was well known to be a campus slut, but at a party last weekend she had really been able to get lucky with it. Some drunk rich kid had bet that she wouldn't do what she was about to do. He had got the fake I.D. taken care of for her and was already inside the club waiting for her. Him and a few other people would be ready with video cameras to see if she would go through with. The inside of the building was spacious, with light flooding in from several virtual two-story-tall windows, making it look like the insides of a church. A church owned by a whore he mused. The ground floor was covered with gambling tables and tazbaar slot-machines, and seemingly one representative of each known species in the galaxy. The first floor had been removed and replaced with a wide gallery overlooking the ground floor. This area was reserved for the high rollers. The VIP. She kept herself to herself, there wasn’t even gossip, you know, she’s a dyke or whatever. She just kept her own council as they say in these parts. We met socially very occasionally. I must admit my wife and I liked her, she was very pleasant company. She’s a ‘toucher.’ Our family, on both sides, have always been ‘touchers’ as well. We’ll put an arm around someone when we meet, touch their arm as we talk, often brush cheeks as we greet. I don’t know why. I guess it’s not everyone’s bag, but we.