Months
Life falls into a routine. In the office, Ms. O’Brien seems to go out of her way to assure the days are dull and repetitive. When not staring at the wall as mandated, I am made to perform such tedious tasks as counting the sheets of paper before restocking the copy machine. There’s five hundred in a ream. The paper makers never short the customer. That I can confirm.
Such tedium almost makes my appalling Thursday afternoon shifts in the washroom something to which to look forward. Yes, I present myself to Miss Rica to be stripped naked, collared, led about leashed and on all fours to establish her control then am secured to the potty box, humbler encasing my balls.
Clever, the way the misandrists bring the stint to be fondly anticipated in the mind of the masochistic male. Being
