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Eating was yet another challenge to be explored and overcome."Whew," Betty said, withdrawing the drill and bit carefully awayfrom Michelle?s face. "Glad that?s over. Witchie, you all right?"Michelle opened her eyes and nodded, softly whistling her thanks to herlovely, perspiring friend as the two heard soft applause from somewhere offin the night.An hour later, the young guard returned to get the power tool, suspectingthe two ?slaves? might have used it to drill off their chains. (Michelleand Betty had thought of that, tried but the bit slipped too easily off thecircular steel surfaces of their shackles). The guard, Amina Allenby, tossed in a canteen of tepid, dusty water to thepair.Betty took the tin in her shackled hands and poured two cupfuls down herparched throat while Michelle looked on thirstily; then she carefully poureda small rivulet down Michelle?s pierced cock gag and Michelle, trying hardnot to spit up, managed to get down a couple of cupfuls as well.Whirrrr.Michelle. I swallowed my milky drink as instructed. I didn'thave the energy now to hand wash my undies. I left them on the chair bythe bed for tomorrow. Soon I was asleep in MY pretty nightie.The alarm woke me next day. I took off my night things and put themunder my pillow, neatly folded. I shaved and showered. I returned tothe bedroom with the towel around my waist. I knew that I would bewearing male clothes as normal for the office, but I wasn't surewhether to follow Ann's instructions to wear my AA-cup bra under myshirt. But something deep inside me told me I had to. It would be alittle reminder of my weekend in dresses. My little secret. I chose ashirt that I would be confident would not allow the bra to showthrough.But when I opened my underwear drawer there were no male underpants. Ichecked other drawers. All my underpants had gone. Ann must haveslipped them into the case when I wasn't looking and taken them away.But I wasn't too unhappy that it was "necessary" to wear a pair ofsilky.
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I cupped my thong pouch in my right hand and squeezed, then let my middle finger explore my butt cleft once more. I stroked and tapped at the fabric. I slipped my left hand round my back and squeezed my ass. Then I sat on the towel and lay down on my back. I picked up the baby oil once more and, again from a height, squeezed a liberal quantity of it onto my thong pouch. I returned the oil to the bed and massaged my prick through the thong fabric. As I’d anticipated, the fabric grew semi-transparent, revealing a misty outline of hardening dick. I squeezed my dick between my thumb and forefinger through the fabric then massaged it with the palm of my hand. I continued until my prick was pulling hard against the thong, desperate to be let out. I paused and looked at my pouch, which arched up rigidly in its wetness. I knelt on the bed, my knees wide apart, my ass thrust backwards. I grabbed the waistband of my thong front and back. I pulled at it slowly but firmly, now the front, now the.

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