‘John…please…you’re hurting me. JOHN…please…Oh…God…Please…John…JOHN.’ I came to with a rush. I was ramming into Sue hard…too h...rd. I was hurting not only her, but I was also hurting me too. My mind had slipped…into a zone where I’d never been before. I stopped and rolled off onto the floor. Sue was in tears as she lay there on her back. Ashamed I turned over and faced away from her. Hearing her sobs I knew I must have had a surge of anger. I had never seen it coming, nor had I realize how hard. I was strapped into the highchair and as he started to prepare my breakfast,I looked on the floor in the corner and almost shrieked in surprise at whatI saw. A naked man was sleeping soundly in a dog bed. His arms had been amputatedat the elbows and legs at the knees and big flesh paws were grafted at theend of each. Like me he was totally hairless. A flesh tail protruded from thebottom of his back. A thick leather collar was around his neck and a chainfrom it was tethered to a big eyehook in. I stayed there for what felt like hours, though it probably wasn’t. And you know what? I missed it. I’d hated every second of my torture but somehow I still yearned for it. At least when I was being used I knew I was useful. Because in those quiet moments, just me and my thoughts, I wasn’t so sure.Eventually I was untied. I was too fatigued to speak, to move. I didn’t respond as I was handled and I swear to God someone checked me for a pulse. Death by fucking: that was new. I was picked up,. I did a quick internet search to see if I could find a name and address. Sure enough, a Clarice O’Henry came up, still living in Savannah. Her place wasn’t that far away according to Google maps. By that time, my Uber arrived and I jumped in and gave him the address. He dropped me off in front of a strip mall next to a pretty busy street. I cross-checked my addresses and realized he’d dropped me on the opposite side of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. I was about to head toward the.