By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 13: Stage Struck
“Thanks for the gossip,” 8363 said. “You know how it turns me on.”
“Anything to serve,” I said.
“You definitely like serving the Colonel.”
If you can shrug when you’re wrapped up in a bunk with the guy you’re shrugging at, I shrugged.
“Too bad,” he said, “that he’s just running a test.”
“Yeah. To see if I’ve been tamed. He said he could tame me, and he was right. He’s got his answer.”
“Actually, he’s testing himself.”
“Sure, sure.”
“You can’t fuck something that doesn’t get you hard.”
“So?”
“So you think he likes being turned on by the tool he’s made out of you? I like it, but that’s because I’m a tool myself.”
“I’m glad you’re screwed onto me.”
We played for a while. He had an amazing tongue—great in my mouth, great on my toes, great when it slithered across my bald head. Then he told me, “He’s testing himself to see if he wants to be like you. If he wants to be tamed . . . punished . . . shackled . . . worked . . . .”
“Who cares? Just keep doing what you’re doing . . . .”
