So I stayed. Then one night a little over a year and a half ago Roger called me and told me on the phone that he was having sex with another woman and... that he wanted me to be ready to suck him off when he got home. That was too much. I decided it was all going to end that night. I called my neighbor and told her that I was afraid that my husband might beat me when he got home and I asked her to call the police if she heard any screaming from our apartment. I knew my neighbor didn't like Roger. The plague must be going to get very bad, very soon, for him to be so frightened.As I looked out the windows of the Suburban, I was struck by how few people were outside. Usually there would at last a hundred times more activity than I could see. Other than firemen, cops, and what looked like federal law enforcement employees, I really didn't see much of anyone.When I mentioned that, one of the agents said, "Other than nurses, doctors, medical people, water and sewage workers, and public and. The moreyou fight and squirm, the more painful it will be. I would suggest youjust relax because my finger is just the beginning you whore."I tried to listen to his advice but couldn't concentrate on anything.Between the bonds, the gag, the chastity device and his finger, I couldbarely hold a thought into my head. As if I needed any othersensations, I could feel something on the cheeks of my ass.Master Ken explained what it was: "Remember those body writing picturesyou sent me, slut? I remember. Come ... stay with us,” I blurted out. “For Thanksgiving.”“I’m not looking for a handout, Arthur. I’ll be fine,” she said.“No. Our friend ... my friend ... please.” I was struggling. Word bubbles kept entering my throat and then popping. “I’ll paint your portrait!” That was it. That was what she wanted and I’d promised. Thanksgiving was a perfect time. Kendra’s head snapped around to look at me.“Really?” she whispered. I nodded. “Will it be okay? With Annette and Morgan?” I nodded again. “I’m.