’ Reardon followed the man, curling nose at the smell the man left in his wake. The two went through the front all to the back rooms and to the last... door on the right. ‘Got her drugged and dressed, just like ye asked.’ The man opened the door and Reardon could not help but gasp at the image she made. Standing in the middle of the room the girl stood wrapped in nothing but a long strip of red satin. It wound through her legs around her hips across her breast and over one shoulder. Her head. ”“I have heard that, how does that work, do you know?” Master inquired, continuing the act the two were playing out. “Something like this I have heard.” Bill offered, as he unzipped his pants and started to pull out his flaccid cock. The first stream of urine hit me square in the forehead. I dropped my head, feeling humiliated and disgusted. His urine continued in my hair and down my back until after what seemed an eternity, he must have emptied his bladder, for his stream stopped. While it was. The room beyond was lit with soft white light. Strips of white material were stretched across the walls like bandages of latex. It suited the room, which looked clean, sanitary and maybe a little too sterile. A large massage table, the only furniture, stood in the centre of the room. There was a hole for the head to rest and the white surface looked far plusher than tables Phil had previously seen, admittedly only in infomercials on TV back on Earth.Slake was walking around the table wearing. The place really sucks. And I can’t stand Black Canadians. Why? They’re all Oreos. In case you don’t know, an Oreo is someone who’s Black on the outside but White on the inside. We have a few of them in America and way too many of them in Canada. Most Black Canadians are Oreos. And they’re perfectly okay with that. In the United States of America, we teach Black men and Black women to love themselves. There is nothing wrong with being Black. The problem lies not within Black people but within.