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Com)"I always wondered what bits of exploding testicles looks like,"For the first time this night Alexis showed some sign of emotion but it was not something the man on the business end of the gun wanted to see. It wasn't guilt of killed another nor is it the sympathy for someone that is blooding to death. No, it was the same twisted look of amusement one would find on a child as he sadistically tortures an ant to death with a magnifying glass."If you want to die a man I suggest you start talking, and I suggest you do it within 3 seconds." The gun had not moved from where it is pointing at the man's crutch that was stained with urine. "One..." Silence."Two..." Alex continued to count but the grin on his face said he would rather pull the trigger then listen. Finally the other man broke."Alright, I'll tell you." His total lack of enthusiasm was evident in his voice. "I'll tell you everything." Good," Alex sat down on the bed just in case this turned out to be long. "Start talking." He. But that’s not the point.”Now Emily was getting upset “Don’t keep me waiting, girl, what is the point?”The fear returned to Susan’s eyes. “The man, the kid was talking to I recognized him. He’s a security officer. In the Intelligence section.”Emily paused in thought for a moment. “Was he in uniform?”“No, it was civilian clothes. He was dressed better than the locals. It didn’t look like he fit in.”Emily paused again. Susan, in a panic, broke her chain of thought. “Aunty Emily, I think he recognized me. I met him at a command meeting a couple of months ago. What are we going to do, Aunty? They’ll be coming for me. I’ve got to find a place to hide.” Susan was getting increasingly agitated.Emily was almost in a panic herself. But she had been there before and knew that she had to remain calm and think. “Settle down, Susan. Here, have a cup of tea while I think about this.” Emily went to her sideboard and prepared a cup of tea. Then she handed Susan the tea and directed her over to a.
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“Good, really good,” Gerard praised thankful there were no marks on Tim’s wrists to indicate bindings, just the usual bruises, new and old, left by his mother, “Now, let’s go eat.”After their meal, Tim and Gerard watched television until it was time for Tim to go to bed. Making sure his brother was comfortable and starting to doze off, Gerard left to the kitchen to continue perusing the BDSM magazine. He studied each page noticing, in most pictures, the restraints were fastened in such a way as to limit or even deny any movement by the wretch entrapped. Thumbing through the pages, he also noted that often restraints were used to ensure lack of escape from an instrument of punishment. ‘Boy,’ thought Gerard, looking at his mother, ‘if I could just get my hands on some of this stuff.’More time passed, more days returning home with mom asleep on the couch (usually alone), more time thinking of how to help Tim until THE day came. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, Gerard had applied.

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