“Come on. Fuck me harder!”I found myself pushing back to meet his thrusts. My hard-on felt strange swinging back and forth. I looked at it, mesmer...ized by the pendulous motion. A rope of pre-cum dripped from itMy ass felt wonderfully full with his every deep thrust. I wanted to beat my cock but was unable to unclench my fists from the sheets. All I could do was to listen to the sounds of him fucking my ass and to the sound of my voice urging him on.“Get on your back,” he demanded. I obeyed. Just so you know, I saw the Circle as salvation from what had been happening. Yes, it became a magnet, but that’s why.”“Remember that. Your whole sex life will come to the fore, as well.”“What about Brian’s affair with Amanda Tyler? What about his books on psychological warfare and his checklists?”Dave speculated, “His lawyer will find some basis to dismiss all of that; to trivialize it and make them worthless pieces of evidence that have no relevance to the case.”“Hmmmmm.” Joan got thoughtful.. I had to guess that other people were lying low. I heated a quick breakfast of oatmeal and instant coffee. I hated instant coffee but wasn't willing to take time make better. I wanted to get out of here. I figured early would be safest for traveling through the Dallas-Fort Worth tangle of expressways. I thought about stopping somewhere and picking up a GPS but decided that my interactions with people had not been successful and I could do without it. I knew where I was going as long as there. I was hung by my wrists from a hook in the living room ceiling, installed for the expressed purpose that was to follow. My ankles were roped and pulled apart until I thought I'd split in two. Then they were anchored to ring bolts buried into the wooden floor. Normally rugs covered the bolts. Uncle Bill doesn't like an untidy home or one that is not in harmony. I was then subjected to the cane, a four-foot length of bamboo that tapered down to the width of a pencil. To hear the whistling.