Beneath

DINING OUT

       I went straight to the shower as soon as I got in.  I was toweling dry when I heard the door open and close.   I walked into the living room, naked.  Darns was sitting on the couch, his legs splayed out in front of him.  There was a case next to the couch.

       "Make me a drink." 

       "What would you like, sir?"

       "You have whiskey."  It wasn't a question.  All I had was a bottle of whiskey.  And he knew that.  I had a sudden urge to tell him I didn't have any.  It was just one of those impulses towards self-destruction.  Like the urge to jump when standing on a precipice.

       I didn't.  I said, "Yes, sir.  Would you like ice?"

       "No."

       I poured him two fingers.  He took it and said, "Hump my leg like a dog."  I got down on his leg and started grinding, without thought.  I was too tired to feel humiliated.  He sat back, sipping his whiskey, letting me hump his leg.  He didn't even watch me do it.  I actually got into it, got close to orgasm.  I wanted to cry again when he stopped me short of it, "Stop.  Don't cum.  Never cum without my permission.  Always tell me if you are about to cum.  Lie on your back with your arms out, feet together, knees splayed."  I did.  I felt I'd go mad with need.  I was grinding my pelvis slightly, pleadingly.  Still, I could have fallen asleep right then, too.

       He stood and walked into the back room.  When he came into the living room again, he was naked.  He lowered himself onto my face, with his face over my crotch, and began fucking my mouth.  I heard and felt him spitting on my pussy, the wet splat hitting my most tender area.  He had asked me if I could love him.  I thought I had changed this dynamic, at least a little.  If he wanted my love, he may stop debasing me.  But, here I lay, dick in mouth, testicles on my face, asshole right above my eyes, spit falling on my vagina. 

       I hadn't improved my situation at all.

       Still fucking my mouth, he started slapping my vagina, hard.  I pushed my pelvis up to him, offering it for his abuse.  It hurt but I was so hungry for any attention there I'd have taken it in any form.  He rammed his fingers inside me roughly.  I tried to fuck them, to grind them, just to thank him for any consideration he gave me there.  As he came he dug his fingers inside me. 

       He rose wordlessly and left me alone on the floor again, neglected.

       "Put these on," he threw some of my clothes at me as he returned.  It was that bra that lifted but didn't cover, a light, button down sweater, my highest heels and my best skirt.  He had one of my belts in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.  I had put on the items and was buttoning the sweater when he said, "No."  That was when he began modifying the outfit to his liking.  He secured the belt tightly just under my breasts.  Then he shifted the sweater open so that it ran only just over my nipples, exposing as much of the ample cleavage as existed between them.  Then he began cutting my skirt.  I loved that skirt.  I had bought it off the rack but it fit as though it had been tailored.  It came to just above my knee, the perfect balance between flattering and modest.  When he was done with it, it was only long enough to barely cover my ass and pussy. 

       In my heels, I was almost his height. 

       He stroked my cheek and, as though I would be happy and romanced at what he said, "I'm taking you to dinner."

       I choked on the words, "Thank you, sir."  I wanted to cry.  I was so tired.  I had thought we would sleep soon.

       I saw his police car parked outside but we took the bus.  He chose the seats in the back, the ones lining the wall and facing those directly opposite.  I sat to his left.  Two young women were in the opposite seats. 

       Once we were settled and the bus began accelerating, Darns pushed my knees apart, exposing me to the girls across from us.  I felt my face flush and I turned away.  They quickly rose and moved to a seat in the front.  One of them murmured, "Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that?"

       I looked straight ahead again.  That was now the best place to stare; no eyes resided there to stare back.  Darns was looking around the bus.  His eyes finally settled on something.  He was moving his head in a communicative way.  Perhaps not getting his point across to his satisfaction, he made motions with his right hand, his left hand still holding my knee in place.

       There was rustling in the direction he was looking as an older couple moved to sit across from us.  I looked away again but Darns grabbed my chin with his right hand and faced me at the couple.  The man was looking me up and down, smiling as a child smiles if you give her ice cream.  The woman was staring straight at my crotch, confused, as though my vagina baffled her.

       The man asked, "You on the force?"

       Darns, "How could you tell."

       He pointed at himself.  "Retired."  Pointed at me, "I miss this part of the job."

       The woman said, "I was a detective.  That's how we met."  She flashed a sweet smile at her husband, patted his knee and went straight back to staring at my pussy as though it were growing it's own papaya.

       "That natural or is she Treated," the man asked.

       "Oh, that's all her," Darns said, running his finger between my labia.  "Today was her first day."

       "Nice.  Naturally responsive is the best kind.  I know some love it but I never liked the treated ones.  When I suck a tit it's because I want to suck a tit, not because I'm thirsty.  Know what I mean?  I just want to suck it, I don't want milk from it."

       "Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Darns said.  His hand was still on my pussy, spreading the lips apart, showing as much of me as there was to show.

       "She looks tired," the woman said.  I don't know how she figured that out from my pussy.  She didn't look anywhere else.

       "I'm sure she is.  It was  very long day for her."  Darns pulled the sweater to the side a bit, exposing my nipple and it's red halo.  "We're just on our way to a restaurant.  Would you care to join us?"

       They exchanged a look, one of those secret, marital communiques, and the wife said, "That would be lovely."

       The rest of the ride, they talked shop.  The wife joined the conversation but rarely took her eyes off of my vagina.  No one said a word to me. 

       At the restaurant, Darns suggested I sit between the couple.  He pulled out my chair, as a gentleman would for a lady.  As he pushed it toward the table, he whispered in my ear, "Keep those legs spread wide, cunt."

       There was a single carnation in a vase in the middle of the table.  The wife took it.  "How lovely."  She smelled it, twirled it, then inserted it in my cleavage.  I felt the husband's hand run up and down the inside of my thigh. 

       The waiter came, gave us menus and took our drink orders.  He was clearly desperate to avoid looking at my flower holding cleavage but finding the task impossible.  Darns ordered a water for me and beers for them.  I'd never wanted a beer so badly.  He left to fetch the drinks and Darns took my menu away.

       The husband, on my left, lifted my hand from the table and asked Darns, "Do you mind?"

       "Not at all.  Help yourself."

       He took his penis out of his pants and put my hand on it.  I played with it, gripping it and rubbing it.  I was concentrating on this task so hard that it startled me when Darns spoke to me.  I was beginning to recognize the specific tone he took with me.  I knew by the sound of his voice if his words were for me.  "Don't you think you're being rude to the lady, cunt?"

       I felt a moment of abject terror from not knowing what Darns meant and being helpless to rectify my faux pas, whatever it was.  Then I noticed she was hiking up her skirt.  "I'm sorry, ma'am."  I put my other hand on her and gave her vagina the treatment I so desperately wanted somebody to give mine.  She was bone dry so I had to keep wetting my fingers in my mouth.

       She said, "Saliva doesn't work quite as well as real pussy juice, does it, dear?" 

       "No, ma'am."  I didn't know how else to fix it.  I couldn't seem to get her wet.

       "Then use real pussy juice."  She sounded annoyed.  Still, it took a few more moments for me to figure out what she was getting at.

       I put my finger in my own vagina, collecting the liquid there.  And she was right.  It stayed slick over her clitoris for much longer.  I tried to play with myself secretly, under the ruse of getting my finger wet.  There was no time to do anything but make myself more needy.

       The husband looked at Darns and said, "Well, this is just lovely."

       The wife, "Oh, it certainly is.  Thank you so much for inviting us out with you."

       "It's my pleasure entirely," Darns said.  "The evening is turning out much better than I had anticipated.  If you've other plans, I understand.  However, I hope the evening doesn't have to end with this dinner."

       "Dear," the wife said.  She leaned forward earnestly.  She spoke with weight.  "It's so nice to meet a young cop with the proper respect for those who came before.  So many treat us as obsolete.  You are a quality young man."  At the phrase, quality young man, the image of him urinating into my vagina popped into my head.

       "I'll save this for later," the husband said, grabbing my hand and tossing it on the table.  "Have you met the new commissioner, yet?"  At this, his wife gave her husband a knowing, approving look.

       "No, he's meant to be visiting all the stations personally but we've not been given a date."

       "He is a personal friend of mine.  We worked at the same station.  In fact, I was with him when he took out that rebel faction that won him so many honors.  Keep this to yourself as he means to surprise you with his visit:  he's coming in three weeks.  When he comes, he will know your name."

       I felt a surge of excitement for Darns, immediately followed by confusion as to where that emotion had come from.  Darns didn't look excited at all.  He said, "With all due respect, and I really appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not get by on favors."

       "I don't do favors and neither does commissioner Rond.  He'll know your name and he'll check you out.  If he does anything with you, it will be because of you, not this dinner or anything that comes after."

       Darns looked at me, then at the husband.  "I'd really rather you didn't."  The couple looked at one another, communicating quasi-telepathically again, then at me.  I realized that the conversation was now about me, somehow.  I only knew from the looks I was getting, the suspicious, important looks they were all suddenly lobbing in my direction.  My spine straightened without my telling it to.  Darns said to the man, "This is really none of your concern."

       "Boy, I'm not going to lecture you.  It might not be such a bad call your making.  At least let us vet her for you.  An objective, third party.  Then we can talk about what can and can not be done with your future."

       I felt nauseated.  I knew they were talking about me.  I knew it was important.  But I had no idea what any of it meant.

       Darns stared at the husband, searchingly.  He was about to speak when the waiter came to get out order.  Darns ordered me a vegetarian meal.  When he was gone, "What do you think you can find out?"

       "My wife can discover quite a lot, actually.  All of this is pointless if you're not a very good officer.  Is there any point to this?"

       Darns spoke as though he were announcing checkmate, "I'm the second.  I've got more third level collars than everybody else combined."  I felt proud.  I had more of a relationship with my gay husband than with this man and none of my husband's accomplishments made me feel proud.  I felt odd.

       "Has she said anything to you to make you feel...special," the man asked.

       "Yes."  I expected him to look at me but he held the man's gaze steadily.  My heart was racing.

       "Do you believe her?"

       "You know I do."  His answer was so quick it almost overlapped the question.

       "You want to own her."

       "I already do."

       "Let us vet her.  We'll tell you exactly what your situation is when we're done.  You are not in a position to determine that.  I see that you feel certain but nobody is perfect and you may have made mistakes.  You need a third party verification."

       "Okay."  And that was the end of it.  They talked more shop.  I played with the wife the whole time.  I didn't listen to anything else they said.  I tried hopelessly to understand what they could have been talking about, instead.  Mistakes?  What mistakes? 

       

       I had to eat with my left hand which was awkward and difficult.  She never got wet or even seemed the least aroused.  We went back to my apartment afterwards.  They had me undress and kneel in front of the couch, laying my torso on it.  My face was buried in the cushion at an odd angle.  The husband entered me from behind.

       The wife said to Darns, "You shouldn't be here for this."

       The husband quickly added, "She can handle this alone.  Why don't we go for a drink?"

       The wife, "Do you have any devices or should I make do with what is around?"

       Darns said, "That case next to the couch is full of stuff.  How long will this take?"

       The wife said, "It depends.  I'll call when I'm done.  Can I get her spread and immobile before you go?"

       "Let me run to my car.  I have more in the trunk."

       Darns left me alone with the two of them.  "What do you think," the wife asked.

       I thought she meant me until the husband responded.  "He's exactly what Bob was talking about.  Exactly.  It's really quite uncanny to run into him so soon after that conversation."  He was fucking me erratically.  He would push only the head of his penis inside and out, inside and out.  At sudden, unpredictable intervals, he would brutally ram his whole penis inside me.

       "Mmmm.  It's not that uncanny, really.  We've been wandering around the city for a couple of weeks.  I'm sure we're not the only ones Bob had out on the prowl."  I could hear her making preparations, walking around, objects knocking on other objects.  The husband started fucking me properly, hard and quick, kneading my buttocks until he came.  He left me there and asked his wife, "You need some help?"  I heard the faucet turn on.

       "Just when he gets back.  Help bind her.  Oh, speak of the devil."  The door opened and closed.  I felt him grab my arms and lift me.  He brought me to the table.

       "Up," he said, slapping my ass.  I sat on the table where he pushed me back and lay me on my back.  He folded my leg together, tied the upper leg to the lower.  The husband soon took the other leg and did the same, watching Darns and taking instruction from what he did.  The wife grabbed my hair and pulled up.  I lifted my upper torso as far as I could.  I felt a cushion push under me.  Darns tied my wrist to my ankle.  The husband followed suit.  My hair again, another cushion.  The wife was suddenly at the other end, pushing the table back until it was against the wall.  She reached over and pushed my ass until I was against the wall.  Darns and the husband tied a rope to my ankle/wrist and under the table, somewhere, pulling my legs apart.  Another rope around my torso and under the table.  I could hardly squirm.

       The wife, "That's great.  You boys have fun.  I'll call."

       They left wordlessly.  The wife stood wordlessly.  I tried to squirm.  I was terrified.  Of all that had been done to me, what could they possibly be so much worse that it would require me immobile?  It occurred to me that I had wanted to see what preparations she'd made but their restraining me had distracted me from this task.

       The sound of the car starting and driving off drifted up to us.  Her eyes looked diagonally upwards, looking at the listening place.  "Okay.  I'm going to ask you some questions.  I want honest answers."  She dipped down, producing a riding crop.  "If I feel you are not being honest with me," she snapped her wrist expertly, the crop licked at my pussy at a blinding speed and white, hot pain shot even quicker up my spine to my brain.  My whole face contorted in the effort to make no noise.  "Do you understand?" 

       "Yes ma'am."  I felt more exposed now than I had ever before.  I was now exposed to the possibility of pain from a woman who derived no pleasure from me sexually.  Was that why she'd had me play with her all night though she got nothing from it.  Did she want me aware of how little she desired me?  Did she know what a difference it would make?

       "First question.  What did you say to him?  What did you say to make him feel special?"

       I didn't know where to begin.  The whole situation seemed so much more complex and nuanced than I could explain in a simple answer that would save me from the crop.  Too quick for me to even think of objecting, it snapped again.  My whole body clenched and I heard a little snort escape me.  "You're thinking about your answer.  You must intend to lie."

       "No, I don't know where to begin."

       "Go as far back as you want."

       "It was after this thing...he called it 'dignity'."

       "I know dignity," she said, impatient at the mere possibility I could waste her time with my descriptions.

       "He asked me how it went and I said I thought it had worked.  I just wanted to please him with no thought to my own dignity.  Which was the point.  I thought it would please him to tell him.  But it didn't."

       "Why not?"

       "He said I was trying to manipulate him," I spoke quickly.  As though the speed of my words would save me.

       "Were you?"

       I thought for a moment, forgetting that I wasn't supposed to.  She was so fast with that thing.  The pain seemed to touch every cell in my body and a whimper escaped me.  I was flexing the muscles down there.  I felt shame that she would see this, my pussy flexing.  "It was true.  I didn't lie.  I did think his reaction would be positive.  I did want a positive reaction from him.  But I wasn't deceptive, if that's what you mean."

       "He was angry?"

       "Yes."

       "What then?"  She was as quick with her questions as she was with that crop.

       "I was scared.  I was terrified.  I didn't know what to say.  So I just started talking.  I said that I felt like he was my true owner, even though he wasn't.  I think I said some other things but I don't remember what they were.  That was the thing that made him think he was special, though.  I don't think anything else I said was like that."

       "Was it true?"  She tweaked the crop as she spoke.  She wanted and excuse to use it.  This was clear.

       "I don't know.  It didn't feel like a lie.  Not when I said it.  Not now, even.  But it doesn't really feel like the truth, either.  I don't know what it is."

       She looked at me quizzically, nodding "yes" while her expression said, "what the hell are you talking about?"  "What then?"

       "He asked me if I thought I could love him.  I said I didn't know."

       The crop again, for no reason I could imagine.  It was as though ice shot through every nerve in my body.  In spite of myself, I yelled, "OW!  FUCK!"

       "You must know if you think you could love a person.  You can make that call about every person you meet.  He didn't ask if you could love him.  Just if you thought you could.  Tell me.  Do you think you could?"

       She had the crop poised above my crotch, letting me know what a hair trigger she had on this point.  "That's not true.  It depends.  I don't think I could love him if he couldn't love me."

       "Doesn't his asking tell you he could?"

       "He may think he could but he doesn't know," I said.

       "Why not?"

       "He doesn't know me any more than I know him," I said.

       She stared at me thoughtfully.  She said, "Hmmm," as though she were thinking around an interesting problem.  My vagina felt hot and sore and still in a terribly precarious situation.  "I'm going to tell you something.  He told us he gets more level 3 collars than anybody.  Than all his coworkers combined.  Level 3 is a very time consuming task.  It involved heavy surveillance.  You follow a person for weeks, even months.  You tap their phone.  He has heard your most intimate conversations, watched you in your most isolated moments, he may well know you better than your own husband does."  I felt my eyes widen.  She added, "It is possible he already loves you."

       "No.  You don't know how he treats me.  He made me fuck his toe.  He peed in me."

       She nodded.  "Of course he did.  He'll do worse.  He means to own you in every conceivable way.  That means you have to accept every part of him with every part of yourself.  He won't be satisfied forcing it out of you.  You will have to offer yourself to him."

       "Haven't I done that?"  I was vaguely aware that I was shouting.

       "No, dear.  Not if your objecting to his piss."

       "What do I have to do?"  She snapped the crop again and I let go.  I lay my head back and screamed.  This only seemed to egg her on.  It came down again and again.  It was bright pain.  It was twisted pain.  It made my hair stand, all my skin was goosefleshy tingles of prickly white pain.

       When she stopped, I lay gasping and shrieking.  She waited for me to recover myself before explaining why she'd just punished me. 

       "I'm not going to tell you what to do."  She turned the crop around and shoved the handle brutally into my ass.  She leaned down and produced my hair caddy, from my bathroom.  She brought it to my head and started brushing my hair, parting it down the middle and making two ponytails on each side of my head.  It wasn't a regular set of pony tails.  She tied each one around a long ribbon that ran along the back of my head.  I was moving and straining in my bonds which caused the crop to bounce up and down.  I felt ridiculous. 

       She spoke very calmly now, the authoritarian tone gone, replaced by an almost mothering one.  "The real question we need to discover is your willingness to do it.  Are you a slave at heart?"  I kept quiet.  I could think of what to say but had no idea if it would anger her.  She began braiding each side, tightly.  She was braiding the ribbon in, too.  "Or are you just an adaptive creature.  We need to know this about you.  Have you ever had any fantasies about this sort of thing?"

       "Sort of.  A little.  Spanking.  Being tied up.  Being...used."

       "That's good.  Have you done anything like this?"

       She finished braiding the hair and tying it off at the ends.  She walked to the end of the table again.  "No.  I got married pretty young.  It was hard enough finding a way to have sex at all."

       "Oh.  Why is that?"  She produced a large hook with a phallus on the end.  She held it in one hand and looked at me, awaiting the answer.  I waited for her to do what she was going to do but she made no move.  As soon as I began speaking, she started pushing the phallus into my vagina.  She did this slowly, stopping any time I paused.

       "It um it was a beard.....He's gay.  Ungh......He is my best friend Um, egh...he saved my life once.   I owe him everything."  She tied the ribbons to the other end of the hook, pulling my head off of the cushion.  "We've had to be very discreet about our lovers.  Recently, I've had some trouble.  Down there.  Some weird infection.  The doctors couldn't figure it out but it cleared up about a month ago."  I spoke very quickly, like an auctioneer.  I still thought quick answers would help me.

       She pulled on the ribbon.  It pulled the hook up, pressing up on the inside wall of my vagina.  "Very good."  She grabbed the hook, holding it in me as she removed the cushions from under me.  I lowered, the hook dug in deeper and my chin was forced to my chest.  I felt my abdominal muscles activating.  "Nice," she said.

       She then produced two clamps attached by a chain.  Of course, the clamps went on my nipples and the chain was pulled across my chest as my breasts fell away to each side.  It hurt and ached but it also felt familiar.  It was almost comforting how familiar the pain felt.  These clamps weren't as punishing as the ones Darns had used earlier.  These were just painful enough to let you know.  She told me to grab the chain with my mouth and watched me struggle to do this impossible task. 

       "Right.  Keep trying."  As I tried, she dialed her cell phone and said, "Where are you?  Is there somewhere closer?  At the corner.  Meet me there.  Leave now."  Then she hung up.  She walked around to my ass and removed the crop.  I pushed my tongue out as far as it would go, not even able to touch the chain with it.  I heard the pop of a cap and felt that wetness and pressure on my asshole as something forced its way in.  I squealed.  It got wider, forcing me open, forcing me apart, then suddenly got thinner.  My asshole closed around the bigger part inside me.  She went into my bedroom and came back in, wheeling my tall, standing mirror to face me. 

       I had what looked like a snake coming out of my ass.  It wasn't real.  It couldn't be.  It wasn't moving and it looked plastic.  I couldn't move my head.  With open eyes, I was forced to see myself, bound and stuffed. 

       She walked to my head, grabbed the chain and put it in my mouth.  It pulled on my nipples, lifting my breasts.

       "I hope you are quite convinced that, if you let go of this, you won't be able to get it back in your mouth.  If I come back and it's not in your mouth, you get the crop again."

       And she left.  There was no clock.  I didn't know how long it was.  My abdominal muscles quivered a bit.  My thighs ached.  My nipples hurt.  The fullness and discomfort of having so much inside me was the only thing I had to concentrate on to distract me from releasing that chain.  It almost slipped out on its own once and I had to work my tongue on it to get it further into my mouth, pulling mercilessly on my nipples to save my pussy.

       I could see in the mirror that my face was getting redder and redder with time.

 

       When I heard their laughter outside the door and I almost forgot myself, almost released the chain from relief.  When they walked in, more peals of laughter at the sight of me filled the room.  Darns walked around me slowly, taking it all in, relishing it.  He tickled my clitoris and smiled at the sounds it elicited.  He pulled on the ribbon.  Unsatisfied at how meager the force of it was, h grabbed the hook itself and fucked me with it.  This got me to make the sounds he wanted because he smiled again.

       Then, suddenly conscious of his guests, he released my bonds.  He removed all but the fake snake in my ass.  Darns said it was his favorite toy.

       They sat on the couch and had me make them all drinks.  I was walking oddly, trying to accommodate the thing in my ass.  As I served them, Darns pinched my sore nipples.  They, had me stand before them, legs together and pelvis pushed forward.  This made the snake plug more uncomfortable which was probably the point. 

       The wife said, "She has a nice body.  And she gets very wet.  Look at that little clit peaking out."

       The husband said, in a squeaky voice meant to be my clitoris, "Please touch me."  I blushed as they laughed.

       Darns said, "But do you really think it will happen?"

       The wife, "There's no way to know for sure.  Just keep an eye out for the stuff I told you about.  You'll be fine."

       They finally left, after talk of keeping in touch.  Darns looked at me hard then led me to the bedroom.  He threw me on my back on the bed, spread my legs and entered me.  I could feel his penis pushing against the thing in my ass.  I was thankful at how slow he was going.  He stared into my eyes intensely as he pushed his penis all the way into me, grinding, pinning me down against the snake with the weight of his body and the length of his dick.

 

       He said, "She told you I love you."

       "Yes, sir."

       "My love for you will do you no favors."

       "Yes, sir."

       "It's worse for you that I love you."

       "Yes, sir."

       And he fucked me, slowly, penetrating me as he stared into my eyes.

       "Sir?"  If I could only get the answer to this one question, I might be able to improve my position. 

       "What?"

       "How should I love you back?"

       He stopped.  He kissed my lips, forced his tongue in my mouth, lifted his head, stared into my eyes again.  "Don't get ahead of yourself.  Don't you ever fucking lie to me.  Whose pussy is this?"  He asked, moving inside me again.

       "Yours, sir."

       "Say it," he said.

       "That is your pussy, sir."

       "Tell me I own you," he said.

       "You own me, sir."

       "More.  Say more," he said.

       "I belong to you.  I am your property.  Your will is my command.  I'm about to come, sir."

       "Do it.  Cum.  But keep telling me."

       "I am yours.  I just want to serve you and make you happy.  You possess me.  I am your posse...."  I came, explosions of warm pleasure surging through me, shaking my whole body.  I felt my pussy throbbing and convulsing.  He came as that happened and lay on top of me, recovering, for several minutes.  Then he rolled off of me and fell asleep.  I left the snake in, not having been given permission to remove it.  I thought it would keep me awake but was underestimating how taxing the day had been.  I woke to a throbbing asshole and Darns, fully dressed, sitting up in the bed, stroking my hair. 

       He said, "If I own you now, then I've always owned you.  When I think of how long you've been out there, acting like a free woman, when you were actually my property, I get very angry.  That is stealing.  All those years you weren't with me, you were stealing from me.  I haven't even begun to punish you for that.  You had better prepare yourself.  You'd better be ready to make some serious amends."  He grabbed the snake and yanked it out.  My back arched at the sudden pain. 

       He said, "It's your second day of training.  Get ready." 

       He left.

       And I knew, alone on my bed, that my situation was not improvable.