Thisshould be good." That's it, right there. That sanctimonious attitude where you act likeyou've cornered the fucking market on pain and needing unde...standing. Youscream for other people to feel your pain and refuse to look past it toacknowledge anybody else's." Big talk. But I doubt you've ever had to fight for the right to use abathroom where you wouldn't get beaten up by neanderthals." Unreal. You just did it again. You could have challenged me on what painI could possibly feel that. The odd connection we shared would not be enough to sustain us, as passionate as our relationship was, we’d need to get to know eachother better when this was all over.I chewed on a spoonful of unidentifiable minced meat as I sat at one of the tables, Vi coiled up behind me in a heap as she wolfed down her rations. I still had a wicked purple bruise that ran up one side of my body, the bandages had been removed but it was still very tender and I generally treated it as if it was made of glass.. This, with the soft torment of the dildosattached to our tail feathers, was calculated to drive us quite madwith lust.Both of us struggled a bit in the restraints, each actually reveling inits subtle eroticism. As we moved, we discovered that the fiendishbondage did allow one point of contact - our titties. We could rub ournipples against one-another and immediate commenced to do so. Ofcourse, our one "pleasure" only served to increase our general distressin not being able to go further.After. Many times he talked as he played, sometimes telling a story, sometimes reciting a strange poem. His voice was deep and rhythmic, but he spoke quietly, just above a whisper. You had to keep very still and absolutely silent to hear him speak. ‘My brother, Bill built fences,’ he started, ‘so very long ago. He built his fences all the same: horse high, pig tight…’ ‘And bull strong,’ someone whispered as the old man paused. ‘And bull strong,’ he replied. ‘For half the year he built fences, cutting.