How I Spent My Summer Vacation

by C. Sprite

 

Chapter Six

 

Opening my eyes, I tried to focus. I was in my bedroom and I tried to raise my right arm to rub my eyes but it was stuck behind my back. I pulled on it and felt a sharp pain in both my wrists and ankles. That helped to get my eyes in focus. I looked down and saw that I was still wearing the fifties gown. Pulling on my arm again, I felt the pain in my ankles again. 'This doesn't make sense' I said to myself. I began feeling around and felt a chain. It slowly dawned on me that my hands were handcuffed behind my back and a chain ran down to my ankles. I tried to pull my ankles up and discovered that they were also attached to the bottom of the bed.

I lay there for several minutes trying to work things out, but nothing made sense. Who could have done this? I immediately thought about Marty from Buffalo. Had he followed me here? He had been within hearing distance when I gave the police officer all the information about my destination. I shook my head to wake up more, but it only made me dizzy and nauseous. Finally I just screamed out Lizbeth's name.

A minute or so later Lizbeth walked into the room. Nicole entered behind her.

"Look who's finally awake," Lizbeth said.

"What's going on? Why am I chained to the bed?" I asked.

"Don't you remember?" Nicole asked.

"Remember what?"

"Last night?"

I thought back. The last thing I could remember was dancing with George. "What are you talking about?"

Nicole leaned over my legs and unlocked a padlock. Swinging my legs around, she pulled me to a standing position, but didn't remove the handcuffs. I realized that there must also be a pair on my ankles because I could feel their weight and it hurt if I tried to raise my hands from their position on my tush.

"Last night," Lizbeth said, "you and George disappeared during the last dance at one a.m. We went crazy looking for you guys and finally came home. George brought you home about two o'clock. He said that you two had gone parking but it was getting late and he had to work today, so he brought you home. We couldn't get you to go to bed after he left. You wanted to go out and kept trying to leave the house. Nicole finally used her old police handcuffs to chain you to the bed so that we could get some sleep without worrying that you'd sneak out."

"I went parking with George? Parking as in 'necking'? No way; I wouldn't kiss a guy."

Lizbeth took a newspaper that she had been holding and laid it open on the bed. On an inside page were pictures of last night's dance. The largest one was of me on the stage with the band. I was locked in a tight embrace with some guy and there was no doubt that we were kissing. In fact, it looked like we were French kissing. My mouth dropped open. The caption read, 'Miss Ashley James, visiting from Massachusetts, won the prize for best female costume. She is shown here congratulating Rick Arnott, the winner of the best male costume. Lucky Rick.'

"Are you sure that you didn't kiss a guy?" Lizbeth asked.

I was in complete shock and unable to answer right away. My mouth was working but nothing was coming out. I finally managed to mumble, "I guess that I did. I think I remember a little now."

Lizbeth then began spreading a handful of papers out on the bed. "I printed these off this morning on my inkjet printer. I figured that you might try to deny it. Luckily, I had my digital camera with me last night so I was able to get plenty of shots."

The pictures were all of me. I was in the embrace of a dozen guys and I was French kissing every one. Seeing the pictures brought back the memories, not vividly, but they were there. I had done it. I was speechless, and my stomach was twisting up into knots. I would have put my hands over my face but I couldn't, so I turned to the side.

"Could you release me please," I mumbled to Nicole.

"Not yet. We have some things to work out first."

"What things?" I asked suspiciously.

"We know that you wouldn't have tried to become the biggest slut in town unless you were under the influence. Lizbeth has confessed that she gave you half of one my 'back medicine' pills. The other half is missing from the bottle. Did you take it?"

I nodded and bowed my head.

"What else?"

"It didn't seem to be working so I took another whole pill."

"You took two whole tablets."

I nodded.

"No wonder you acted like you did. Didn't you read the prescription dosage on the bottle?"

I shook my head.

"Those were prescribed for me and it says not to take more than one in a twenty four hour period. Just one of them sends me on a trip among the clouds, so it would only take half that to do the same for someone your size. You took four times the amount that you should have. Did you realize that you could have overdosed and died?"

I shook my head.

"If anything had happened to you, I would have been responsible because it was my medicine. I could have lost my business and even gone to jail."

"I'm sorry, Nicole. I didn't think about any of those things."

"Sorry doesn't make it all better. You'll have to be punished."

"Punished?"

"Suzanne, Lizbeth, and I voted this morning. We decided to give you a choice of punishments. We can either call your mother and tell her the story, then send you home, dressed just as you are now, or, you can stay here, with certain provisions."

Call my mother and tell her?! Then be sent home in the fifties dress! She couldn't be serious. What if somebody saw me getting off the bus and being picked up by my mother? For that matter, what would Mom say about my taking drugs? She would freak. I'd have to spend the rest of my life in my bedroom.

I was in near panic when I said, "What provisions?"

"Your bet with Lizbeth will be extended to sixty days. I'll be watching you closely to make sure that you don't take any more drugs. Also, you'll be sentenced to twenty-four hours confinement and some light activity."

"Confinement? You mean like locked in my room?"

"We were thinking more like 'confined to the downstairs recreation room except during sleeping hours'."

"For only twenty-four hours? That's all?"

"Not quite. You'll remain dressed just as you are now. I'm sure that dress and corset are pretty confining and uncomfortable. They're an important part of the punishment."

The thought of wearing the dress and corset for a full twenty-four hours wasn't a pleasant thought, but this was to be punishment after all, and I had to admit that I had screwed up royally. I still couldn't get over the fact that I had French kissed a guy, correction, all those guys. My mouth had tasted bad when I awoke, but now it felt like tree moss was growing in there. I desperately wanted to brush my teeth and gargle, but first things first. If I agreed to the deal, I would have to dress like a girl for an additional 60 days. I could almost accept the risk of being seen like this by someone from my hometown, but I couldn't look Mom in the eyes if she learned about all this after all the lectures about drugs that she had subjected me to.

"60 days?" I repeated.

"It's like the sentence a criminal gets. With good behavior you might get pardoned after 30, but you'd better count on 60 days, because I don't think you can do it."

"You promise not to tell my mom about the medicine if I agree to stay here and be punished?"

"None of us will ever say one word to her about your taking the drug if you complete your punishment time and stay out of further trouble."

I sighed. "Okay, I accept your terms. I'll stay here."

"If you fail to live up to your agreement, or become difficult, your punishment might be modified or even further extended."

After I nodded, Nicole bent down and removed the handcuffs from my ankles, then released my hands. My arms ached as I moved them around. She said, "I'm sure that you'll want to bathe and use the toilet. When you're done, Lizbeth will help you dress again, and then your punishment time can begin."

Nicole left but Lizbeth stayed and helped me undress. I never would have been able to do it without her help. I couldn't even remove the two wide gold bracelets with the gloves on. The locking clasp mechanisms were too delicate, and until the bracelets were off I couldn't remove the gloves.

I took my first full breath since last night when the corset was finally removed. Lizbeth had been right about my getting used to it, but I couldn't say that I liked it. With the corset off I was able to do the rest and Lizbeth left me alone. I was glad that she took the pictures with her because I couldn't stand to even touch them. And the relief that I felt when I used the toilet almost made me feel human again. I brushed my teeth thoroughly and gargled, twice, before I got into the shower.

Clean and dry, I put on a pair of fresh panties, but I had no choice but to put on the same two control briefs because I only had two that were padded. I called to Lizbeth and she came in to dress me again, right down to the two gold bracelets. She told me to fix my face and hair and then come downstairs. I did as she said but couldn't get down the stairs in the tight dress. When I called down, Nicole came to the bottom of the stairs. Seeing my plight, she came up and got me. I traveled to the rec room over her shoulder, like a sack of potatoes.

Lizbeth had fixed me a breakfast and I devoured it eagerly. I wanted more juice than the tiny cup that she had poured but she told me that I wouldn't be able to pee all day so I reluctantly resisted having another serving.

When I had finished eating, Nicole asked, "Are you ready to begin your twenty-four hours of confinement?"

I looked at her in surprise. "I thought that I was. I'm wearing the dress."

"I said that you would be dressed exactly as you were upstairs."

"You don't mean…"

"Exactly. Stand up and place your hands behind your back."

I grimaced and stood up. Nicole locked the handcuffs on my wrists; the second pair still dangling on a chain from the first pair. Leading me over to a wall by one of the sofa groups where the pictures of me kissing all those guys at the dance had been taped up, she attached the other handcuffs to my ankles as she said, "Just to remind you what happens when you take illegal drugs." She smirked and then pointed to a tiny voice recorder on a wall shelf. "That recorder is voice activated. You'll have to remain in this immediate area in order for it to be activated. The light activity that I mentioned earlier is for you to repeat a message over and over for as long as the recorder can record. It'll be like writing something a thousand times on a chalk board in school. If you stop talking, the recorder doesn't run. I'll be checking the message afterward to make sure that every word is clear and distinct, and that you didn't just hum or sing for ninety minutes. If you don't do it right, you'll do it again tomorrow while chained up, and again the next day, and the day after that, until you do it right, so do it right the first time."

"What do I have to say?"

"Lizbeth wrote it down. It's taped right between the pictures of you frenching George and frenching Rick."

I looked at the pictures around the wall and spotted the small scrap of paper.

"Read it out loud so I can make sure that the recorder turns on."

I read from the paper. "I was a very bad--" the word stuck in my throat for a couple of seconds, "girl. I promise to be a good-- girl from now on."

"You're not reading loudly enough. The recorder didn't activate. Speak louder and don't hesitate. Hesitation causes the recorder to turn off. Try again."

I raised my voice. "I was a very bad girl. I promise to be a good girl from now on."

"That's better, but still not enough. If you don't speak up, the recorder won't turn on. Or it'll shut down before you finish the sentence. The tiny red light is on when it's recording. The tiny blue light indicates that it's full. Keep reading the message until the blue light comes on. Lizbeth and I have some work to do at the shop. We'll be back at dinnertime."

With that, Nicole and Lizbeth walked upstairs and I heard the front door close a few minutes later. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was a little after noon. I turned back to the recorder and tried to move a little closer. The steel handcuffs on my ankles restricted my movement to about a half-inch at a time. That was even worse than the dress itself. Once in position I started reciting the two sentences over and over, the telltale red light shining brightly if I was loud enough and winking out if I lowered my voice. In order to be in proper position for the recorder to operate, I had to face the pictures of me kissing all those men.

 

An hour later my throat was as dry as the Sahara and I was barely able to get the red light on. I stopped and made my way towards the sink, desperate for some water. I had to move very slowly, not only because of the handcuffs on my ankles, but also because if I ever fell I'd never be able to get up, and I was still wearing five-inch heels. As I moved I began to compute the number of steps I'd have to take to reach the sink. If it took two steps for each inch, and I had to go forty feet, it would take me nineteen hundred twenty steps for the round trip.

It took me about twenty minutes to travel the forty feet to the sink and then I had the problem of how to get the water running. Normally, when you see somebody handcuffed on a cop show, they still have quite a bit of movement available, but the chain that ran to the set handcuffs on my ankles was pulled taut, and I couldn't raise my hands away from their position against my tush unless I squatted, an impossible act in the gown. Fortunately, the sink faucet was the single lever type. Using a wooden spoon that I picked up with my teeth, I managed to lift the lever and swing it to the right. All the time that I was working, the sentence that I had been repeating kept running through my head. Cold water began to flow from the faucet and I carefully put the spoon down and stretched out my tongue towards the running water. It tasted delicious but I had to remind myself not to drink too much. Using the spoon I was able to turn the water off and then I started the slow trip back to the recorder, mumbling the punishment sentence as I shuffled .

 

More than an hour later the blue light finally winked on, indicating that I had completed the recording. I don't know how many times I'd repeated the two sentences, but it seemed like tens of thousands. I made my way over to the sink and got another small drink because my voice was raspy and my throat was raw from the constant recitation. For some reason I returned to stare at the pictures on the wall after I had gotten my second drink. I wondered how many other guys I had kissed last night that weren't shown on the walls. I couldn't believe that I had kissed all these guys, but the proof was right in front me, and my fuzzy recollection supported the images. It had to have been the combination of the drug and the mantra that Lizbeth had me repeat over and over. I must have self-hypnotized myself into believing that I was a real girl. I didn’t even know that was possible. I had heard somewhere that you wouldn't do something under hypnosis that you wouldn't do when conscious, so what did that say about me? And what had happened with George? We had gone parking for an hour? My God, Nicole was right. Everyone would think I was the town slut.

I finally turned away from the pictures. I couldn't reach the remote controllers for the wall-mounted television or stereo so I was doomed to hear the punishment message repeating over and over in my head. Making my way towards the nearest sofa, with the intention of lying down because my feet were aching and I needed to get off them, I moved in between the sofa and a large coffee table, then tried to sit down, but the corset and short chain to my ankles prevented me from bending easily. I finally decided to just fall onto the sofa. I positioned myself carefully and dropped, but I must have miscalculated because I only landed on the edge of the sofa. I screamed shrilly as I felt myself slipping off, but there was nothing I could do about it, and I bounced onto the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. The table was one of those massive pieces of furniture that require four adults to move. With my hands cuffed behind my back and my ankles cuffed together, I couldn't move from my position. I must have struggled for ten minutes, just trying to twist around so that I wasn't on my back, because the handcuffs were digging into my wrists and back. I finally made it onto my side, my ankles throbbing with pain from the activity.

As I lay there, the punishment message repeated over and over in my head. I began to sob, and then to cry. I was feeling extremely sorry for myself and just couldn't keep it in any longer. I felt completely helpless and totally frustrated. I wanted to forget the past twenty-four hours but I knew I never would. I finally cried myself to sleep. In the past that might have been good, but today I started dreaming about the dance and being a real girl. All the time, the message that I had read for over two hours kept playing on the loudspeaker in the community center, but only I was able to hear it.

 

I was awakened by Lizbeth's voice calling to me.

"Down here," I said hoarsely.

Lizbeth came over to me and said, "What are you doing down there?"

"I've fallen and I can't get up," I whimpered.

"Oh, poor baby, I'll help you."

As she struggled to pick me up I started sobbing.

"It's alright, hon. I'll have you up in a minute. Am I hurting you?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry that I was a bad girl. I'll be a good girl from now on. I promise I will. Will you please release me, Lizbeth? I'll do whatever you want me to do; anything. Just tell me what I should do."

"I can't release you Ashley. Nicole has the keys to your chains."

I couldn't hold back the tears and I started crying again. Having finally gotten me onto the sofa, Lizbeth dabbed at my eyes with a tissue.

"There, there. It's not so bad. Your awake punishment time is almost half over. Crying is only making a mess of your makeup, and make your eyes look all puffy. What's George going to think when he gets here?"

I looked up at Lizbeth. "George?"

"Yes, you invited him over tonight. In fact you made him promise to come over before you'd let him leave."

"No, no, he can't come over. I can't let anyone see me like this; you've got to call and stop him. Please, Lizbeth. I'll do anything. Please."

"Anything?" she asked, looking at me strangely. "Do you really mean you'll do anything if I call him?"

I gulped, realizing what I had said. "Within reason."

"I don't think that I can, anyway. Especially if you're going to welsh on the deal later on."

"Okay, I'll do anything. Pinky promise. Please, Lizbeth. Call him."

"Okay, Ashley, pinky promise. I place the call and you owe me anything I want."

She reached around behind me and we shook pinkies. Then she went upstairs, but came back after a few minutes. "He doesn't answer and there's no machine."

"Try again."

"I will, in a while. Right now I have to start dinner. Once it's cooking I'll fix your makeup, just in case I can't stop George."

 

Lizbeth tried to call George twice more, if for no other reason than to get me to stop pleading with her, but she wasn't successful in reaching him so she repaired my makeup and fixed my hair while dinner was cooking. I stood next to her chair when the dinner was ready and she fed me in between taking bites of her own dinner. I felt like a small, helpless, child. I had begun to feel a little better as it got later and later, thinking that George wasn't coming, but my heart jumped into my throat when the doorbell rang just after eight o'clock. Lizbeth hurried over and fixed my lipstick before rushing upstairs to answer the door. I was standing, facing the stairs, when George and Larry came down with Lizbeth.

George looked at me and smiled. "I love that dress, babe, but I'm surprised to see you wearing it again." He walked over to me and asked in a lustful voice, "Are you wearing it for me?"

I shook my head as he wrapped his arms around me.

"What's this?" he asked. He had felt the handcuffs and he looked down over my shoulder, then stepped back a little and gently pulled on my right arm. I allowed myself to be turned around. I knew that I couldn't hide it; I could barely move. Besides, I was happy not to have to look him in the eyes.

"I was a very bad girl," I said with my back to him. I could feel a tear running down my cheek. "I'm being punished."

"What did you do to deserve this?" he said as he followed the taut chain down to my ankles and touched the handcuffs there after lifting the folds of fabric that surrounded my feet.

"I was extremely nervous about going to the dance last night so I took some of Nicole's medicine, a very powerful muscle relaxant. It- - affected my judgment."

"I thought that you were a bit wild last night, but then I thought that you might be like that normally."

"I'm not normally anything like that. I don't even remember much about last night. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"Embarrassed me? Hell, no. I had a great time. Er, what's your punishment?"

"Confinement in this dress, and chained up for twenty-four hours."

"The handcuffs seem a bit extreme, but I guess I understand, knowing that Nicole is a former cop."

"I could have overdosed and caused a lot of trouble for her and everyone. I took way too much of the medicine because the first pill didn't seem to be working. I've accepted my punishment as being fair, considering what I did. It's better than a police jail cell."

"I'm glad that you're okay with the punishment, and even happier that you're okay. Let's sit down."

George swooped me up in his arms and then plopped down onto the nearest sofa. He had done it so fast, and his action so surprised me, that I hadn't had time to protest, or even utter a sound, except for the mild, involuntary grunt that came from me when we landed. I wound up with my body draped across George, and being totally helpless I couldn't shift position so I stayed where he put me. Larry and Lizbeth had meanwhile moved to another of the sofa groups in the rec room and the room lighting dipped to a minimum level about the same time that the CD player started. It was so dark, it was impossible to see the other end of the room clearly.

As I tried to think of something to say, George pulled me to him and pressed his lips and face to mine. Even in the dim light I could see that his eyes were tightly closed, which was fortunate because it prevented him from seeing my wide-open eyes and the expression of complete shock on my face. I know that I had kissed him, and more than a dozen other men, the previous night. It would, after all, be ridiculous to deny it after being confronted with the proof of Lizbeth's photos and the photo in the paper. But that was while I was under the narcotic effects of the drugs. Like someone who jumps off a building because they suddenly believe they can fly, I had believed that I was a girl. Right now I was cold sober and un-medicated, so the thought of kissing a guy was appalling.

Having gone parking with George after the dance, I definitely couldn't stop him now and tell him the truth about myself. He seemed like a nice person, but I couldn't know what he might do to me if he learned the truth now, especially since I was so absolutely helpless. With my hands cuffed behind my bank, held tightly against my tush by the chain that ran to the second pair of handcuffs on my ankles, I couldn't possibly run away, or even protect myself, as if I could run in that gown or protect myself from someone as large and strong as George. So for now I just forced myself to relax and close my eyes so he wouldn't get suspicious, while I prayed that it would be over soon.

As George pressed his face to mine, I quickly realized that kissing a boy isn't much different from kissing a girl. A human mouth is just a human mouth after all; the rest is in your head. In some countries, men openly kiss other men on the lips when greeting them. I decided that the best way to get through this situation was to pretend that I was kissing Jennifer Crowley at the last Halloween party, but memories of Jennifer's soft skin and intoxicating perfume couldn't compete with George's rough face and after-shave. They prevented me from sinking very far into that self-delusion.

On that other occasion I had been the aggressor and had invaded Jennifer's mouth with my tongue, while she had just run her tongue seductively around mine, tickling and tormenting me. When George's tongue pushed against my lips, I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could get a word out, his large tongue moved into my mouth, filling it with a squirming mass that seemed intent on exploring every millimeter of the interior. I tried to pull away, but George's hand was against the back on my head, pressing me to him. Unable to prevent the act, I meekly went along, reacting like Jennifer and running my tongue around his.

As long as I kept my eyes tightly closed, kissing George didn't seem half as bad as I feared. Knowing that I had been able to kiss boys last night by convincing myself through a form of self-hypnosis that I was a woman, I figured it might work again. I started running that thought through my head, over and over. To help establish the illusion, I visualized myself as a real girl, standing in front of a mirror dressed for the fifties dance. Then I undressed myself until I stood there naked as a real woman. Once I had managed to visualize myself that way, kissing a boy no longer seemed quite so repulsive. For days I had dressed exclusively like a woman, and my cousins had constantly reinforced that illusion by treating me as one and always referring to me with female pronouns. For my part I had done my best to appear and act like a woman. Having had the punishment mantra repeating in my head all afternoon that I would be a good girl, made the delusion even easier to accomplish than I expected. I found that even without the drug I was able to picture myself that way when I closed my eyes. What that was saying about me, that I could delude myself to accept the fantasy so easily, I have no idea, but it worked, and I was able to respond to George with the level of passion that I thought a real girl would.

George's right arm was occupied holding me, but his left hand was free to roam, and as we kissed he gently caressed my right thigh and tush. Actually, he was mostly just fondling the padding of two control briefs. I couldn't stop him, and could barely feel the caress, so I let him enjoy himself, but when he moved his hand to my fake right breast I squirmed and tried to pull away. Although I could barely feel his touch, as a girl I should not have allowed it this early in a casual relationship. He quickly got the message and stopped, moving his hand back to my tush. I was so grateful for his understanding that I put extra passion into my kisses, making him forget all about his attempt to massage my breasts. For the first time in two days I was glad to be wearing the gown. I was so encased in clothes that I didn't have to worry about George's hands roaming too far.

When he finally came up for air, he pulled me against him and I wound up breathless, with my head on his right shoulder, staring at his neck. I don't know why, and probably never will, but I started to tease him as Jennifer had done with me. Perhaps it was out of the boredom of seeing only the side of his head in the low light and not being able to move around, or perhaps it was because I had succeeded too well in convincing myself that I was a real girl, but I started to nibble on, and lick, his ear and then I kissed his neck. That was about all I could do, but the reaction was incredible. My handcuffed hands were resting on his left leg, and even through the gloves I could feel the material of his pants stretch as his manhood grew. I decided to stop before things got out of control, but it was fascinating to experience the simple ease with which a woman can turn on a man.

About an hour after George and Larry had arrived, a brilliant flash registered through my closed eyes. I opened them just as Lizbeth took a second picture. George never even opened his. He just continued in his quest to lick the back side of my tonsils.

 

The guys remained with us until a little after eleven. When Suzanne arrived home, she came downstairs and turned up the lights, so the boys decided to head home. Nicole wasn't home yet so Lizbeth asked George to carry me to my bedroom and he was happy to comply. I made the trip in his arms instead of over his shoulder. After placing me on my bed, he paused to kiss me again. I had, by now, become so accustomed to kissing him that I wasn't even consciously pretending to be a real girl anymore. As far as George knew, I was a real girl, and as for me, I had willed myself to behave like one for tonight. I guess that the events of the past five days, and especially the past two days, had affected my mental state. I was totally helpless, confused, and unsure of what to do so I was just going along with anything and everything. As George knelt on the floor next to my bed and kissed me, his left hand again began to massage my fake breasts. I knew that he shouldn't be doing that so I started squirming until he stopped.

When he finished the kiss, I said, "George, would you attach the chain by my feet to my ankles please?"

He looked down towards the bottom of the bed and saw the chain and lock lying where Nicole had left them. One end of the chain was still attached to the bed somewhere below. "You want me to lock that chain onto you?"

"My punishment is for twenty-four hours of complete confinement, as I was last night. If I don't comply a hundred percent, Nicole can extend my time. I don't want to do anything that would give her the excuse to chain me up for another whole day. If she checks and sees that I'm not confined the way she left me last night, she might try to use that as an excuse. Please, it doesn't hurt. It only chains me to the bed."

George lifted the folds of fabric around my ankles and ran the chain around the handcuff chain between my ankles. After taking up the slack, he used the open lock that Nicole had left there, to secure it. He couldn't resist coming back for one more kiss. "You're like a beautiful little slave girl," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said smiling. I didn't expect that simple reply to excite him, but it did, and he laid down on top of me, pressing me into the bed, and kissed me deeply again. It seemed like another five minutes before he redrew his tongue from my mouth and got off of me. I decided to avoid making any further suggestive comments while I was so helpless.

George finally said goodnight and stood up. He just stood there smiling and staring at me for a minute and then backed out of the room, clicking the light off as he went. I closed my eyes and tried to sort out what I was feeling. I had spent two nights kissing boys. What was worse was my own deliberate efforts to convince myself that I was a real girl while I was with George. I had succeeded so well that by the end of the evening I wasn't even making a conscious effort to maintain the illusion. It just seemed natural, kissing him? I did know that my head and values were getting totally screwed up, and I didn't know how I was going to survive the pretense of being a girl for the next two months if I could become so immersed in the role that I started to believe it. I started to cry again a the hopelessness of my situation. I would have rolled over and gone to sleep but the handcuffs and chains prevented easy movement, so I just cried myself to sleep.

 

(continued)

  

  

  

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