Day 4

            Another strange breakfast with my jailer. She made a new condition for my being rewarded today. When I tried to take my usual seat on the opposite side of the table from her she stopped me.

            “Sit here,” she said, gesturing to the side of the table at an oblique angle to her.

            “Why?” I asked.

            “Because there will be another reward if you do,” she explained.

            “No…I mean, why do you want me to change where I sit?”

            “I want you to be able to see my legs while we eat.”

            “Screw that,” I said.

            “Suit yourself. If you are so afraid, I guess it’s not worth…” She let her voice trail off on the last word, a taunting smile lighting her eyes.

            This made me mad. Part of me thought that there might be punishment if I didn’t comply. But mostly I was too pissed off to decline her challenge. I moved my chair next to her and sat down.

            We ate in silence. The breakfast was decent- scrambled eggs with bacon and toast. She can’t be accused of starving me, the food I’ve been given on the whole has been good.

But the meal was uncomfortable. She held her plate and sat parallel to the table, with her legs stretched out in plain view, and from the first moment I had to work to avoid looking at them. Of course it was the fact that she had suggested I would do it that gave me the impulse, like when you can’t help touching a sore tooth with your tongue. But even I have to admit that her legs are enticing- shapely in a way you hardly ever see, except maybe in graphic art. Her outfit didn’t help- today she wore dark gray nylons held up by black lace garters, No skirt covered her black panties, so I had the full view of her legs from the soles of her stiletto heels to the tops of her thighs, where the stockings left them bare.

I tried my best not to, but I must have looked at her legs a dozen times as we ate. Mostly I took a furtive peak, but a few times I couldn’t help staring for a minute or more. I glanced up occasionally to see if she had noticed. She had, every time. A self-satisfied smirk sat on her face all through breakfast that infuriated me, but somehow made her even sexier.

Once, when I lingered on her expression, she gestured downward with her eyes. I didn’t understand what she was trying to show me until I looked down into my lap, which she could see from the vantage afforded her by my new seat. A tent had grown in my hospital gown. Until then I hadn’t realized how much her legs had turned me on.

Later today my reward came through the pass-through. A tray held three current newspapers- the LA Times, the Washington Post, and the New York Times. I have to admit, the boredom is so intense in here that I was glad of the reading material. But the other item on the tray was obviously a joke- a novel called Venus in Furs. From what I can see, it is about some asshole who gets held prisoner by a woman.

            She must think that this is all very funny. But I don’t like being toyed with this way. She is going to pay.

Day 5

            Another weird day in cuckooland. I was disoriented on waking up. I know I had strange dreams, but I am having a hard time remembering what they were.

            The joke continued today. “You must be tired from staring at my legs,” she declared once we were seated at the breakfast table. “Why don’t you switch to ogling my breasts?”

            “Will there be a reward?” I asked, trying to sound snarky.

            “Oh, my breasts are their own reward.” With this she thrust her chest out by way of making her point. She had worn a particularly low-cut corset this morning, leaving little to the imagination.

            The meal was an exercise in déjà vu. I tried not to look at her tits, but failed repeatedly. They are indeed magnificent, and her expansive décolletage was magnetic at such close quarters. A slight stain at the peak of the tent in my gown betrayed my involuntary excitement.

             After breakfast my television viewing made the morning even weirder. Flipping through the stations in search of word of my disappearance, I was brought up short by the sight of Goddess Marquesa on a local channel. She was a guest on a morning news show, the kind where perky hosts exchange banter with guests over big mugs of coffee.  From the charming way she chatted and flirted with the male host you would never have guessed that she was a psychotic holding a man prisoner in her basement. He was eating it up, too. The whole segment was about hypnosis. When the male host (I think his name was Chet, or Bing…something preppy) asked what erotic hypnosis was like, and Goddess Marquesa asked breathily if he would like to try it right there, he turned beet red on live TV. I couldn’t say I blamed him…despite everything, she is sexy.

            The guest who was going to come on after Goddess Marquesa was some big mucky-muck who would explain the science of hypnosis. I stayed tuned through the commercial break to see if he would have any information that might help me, but when he got on camera all he could do was to bark and growl when the hosts asked him questions. He looked as confused as everyone else…I suspect Goddess Marquesa must have done a number on his head as she has done one on mine. This woman has to be stopped!