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Her breath fogged. Thebicycle seat was cold! So were the handles. She rode home on thesidewalks, not trusting the roads.Even in an era of autodrive ca...s, drivers at this time in the morningwere a menace. The ones who were awake were often drunk. The ones notdrunk were often sleepy.She rode past Drake's house and saw that the window to the basementwas closed. No tow-headed child was out tonight, dodging moon beams.Chastity sighed.Drake.A problem for another day. He was working, anyway. So was. .As I walked down to my basement I could hear my thirty-two year old sister Emily crying in her cage. Since it was only her second day of sexual enslavement she was still pretty shaken up so I was going down their to get her used to her new life and “break” her in. as I approached the cage I said “don’t cry Emily, I love you and I’m going to take care of you” while I slapped a folded leather belt on my palm. I opened Emily’s cage and told her to get out and stay on her knees. Her hands and feet. I lay on my bed, spreading my legs and scooped up some lube, rubbing it onto my hole with my middle finger, feeling it about to slip inside when I got a text message which made my heart skip a beat. It read….I’ll be in the end cubicle at 12.30 today, come suck me off. It wasn’t what I’d been hoping for, but it was a start. Later that day, at exactly 12.30, I slipped into the end cubicle and locked it behind me, squeezing past the guy who was waiting for me. Without saying a word I slipped off. Again, his life became a blur of disconnected events, one day seeming very much like the previous. The days of the week no longer mattered. Every one was the same, and he poured his energies into his job, working until he was exhausted, then sleeping only long enough to regain sufficient strength to initiate another round. The appeal of food had completely disappeared from his survival drives. He ate irregularly, often not eating for several days at a time. Within six months, he'd lost over.
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