Chapter Forty-Three
Jack kneels in soapy warmth. After the extensive exercise I have demanded he’s somewhat lethargic but grateful for my controlling touch, the ritual of many years of embarrassing cleansings becoming psychologically acceptable.
He has never washed himself as an adult. I’ve soaked and shaved him daily.
“So did you enjoy performing for Louis, Jack?”
He’s chagrined. When I feel his muscles stiffen I know his homophobia still somewhat seethes.
“I really didn’t do anything. My hands... my hands...”
“Yes, I had you secured... to make sure you were polite and receptive. But he sucked your p***s, didn’t he?”
Jack knows that I insist on full answers no matter how bothersome the question.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you ejaculated?”
“Well... not right away. He sort of teased.”
