By BootDeputy
CHAPTER TWO – INTEGRATION
Disassociating from time is easier when you can’t look at anything that measures it. But that didn’t stop me from trying by counting the number of intermissions between the panic attacks. After adjusting to some soreness for what felt like hours, I was able to adapt to the stimuli that I was being subjected to: the tension in my ass, the restricted breathing, the restricted limbs.
The presence of smoke disappeared allowing me to put more focus on my respiratory rate before my arrival.
I only pissed about two more times, the fullness growing with each load drained from my bladder, before I felt the truck stop, and the engine turn off.
In the following silence I was trying to keep my thoughts at bay. Praying that we had finally arrived, and I would be let out of this position soon without setting myself up for emotional disaster of it being another truck stop with hours still to go.
It’s past two o’clock in the morning in a quiet upscale neighborhood. Two disguised men have crossed a lawn belonging to one of the larger homes at the end of the street’s cul-de-sac. Using a suction cup and glass cutter, they break into one of the side windows of the darkened house.
Synopsis/Description: 
