By Unknown
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I must have been held captive by Dave and his leather biker cousin for about three days by now. I don’t know for sure because I had no means of judging time other than the rhythm of ‘torture’ sessions and meals. Food was always the same. Cold compo bacon burgers, which I hate, cold baked beans and crumbled dry biscuits. I ate it all even though it was served in a dog bowl in my cage. I spent my time naked, in irons, locked in a small steel cage, on the floor of which was a padded mat. I couldn’t stretch out and I couldn’t stand, in fact I could barely kneel.
I remembered the US prisoners of war in Vietnam who had been kept in dog kennel sized boxes for months and even years. I felt a real sense of empathy with them. I also had a complicated steel cock cage on and my hands were enclosed in leather bags to prevent me playing with myself. So, thinking about it, even if I’d had a plate with knives and forks I couldn’t have used them. The dog bowl was slid into the cage through a horizontal slot at one end and was followed by another bowl of water. In fact I always had water but had to slide it just out of the cage when I slept to avoid knocking it over.
