Steele strapped on the ankle gun, leaving the Glock in place. He locked the suitcase and slid it under the bed.Steele strolled to the lobby. Unlike th...e day before, the sun shone brightly. Fickle southeastern weather. The constant was the thick humidity.The air-conditioned lobby welcomed Steele. Bufford sat behind the counter with his eyes glued to the television. He glanced up and nodded.“Where can a guy get a drink around here?” Steele asked.“Our restaurant is good if you’re hungry. It serves. “I won’t let them. The magistrate is my friend and he would never let that happen. But it will help if you tell the truth that you were the indentured slave to Steven Bonnet and that I legally purchased you from him. Can you tell that to the magistrate Peaches?”“Of course Massa. I hope that I can help.”“I hope that you won’t be tempted to lie. I told you that the magistrate is my friend. However, remember what I once told you about having you bred by the niggers. If you were to lie, I would be. Draped over the edge of the tub wasa pillow with a latex cover. In the corner of the bathroom was a tallstand, such as you would see in a hospital holding a rubber bag withlong tubes hanging down from it. The bag seemed to be filled with asloshing liquid. At the end of the tubing was a long plastic nozzleand a valve mechanism not far from the back of the nozzle."Now, my sissy son, strip down to your bra and panties. Well,really, MY Bra and Panties because you haven't gotten any of your ownyet.. He asked if I would massage his back to relieve the muscle strain. What could I say? Here was a roommate, in pain, asking for help. But I wanted to touch him very much, and was afraid if I did, he would know I wanted him. Yet how could I say no? I said Sure, and asked him to roll over. I knelt next to the bed and started to do a very chaste, dry massage through his t-shirt. He asked if it wouldn’t be better if he took off his shirt, so I said sure. He rolled back over again, and looked at me,.