I think he was uncomfortable seeing me sitting right where he had just been jacking-off. Maybe the magazine and booze were still nearby. Whatever! Papa sort of stumbled over to where I was sitting. He stood right in front of me looking down. I noticed something I hadn’t seen as I walked in. His zipper was still down. The bulge in his crotch was still noticeable too. I think in his hurry to hide things, he had simply forgotten to pull up his fly. His erection hadn’t had time to soften either. “Papa I need to talk to you about something,” I said.“I know what you have been doing out here, and I know why,” I said looking up at him. Papa’s face seemed to lose color. He immediately began to stammer trying to put something into words. I pointed to his open fly. He looked down at the visible bulge. His attempt to zip-up was far too late to hide his oblivious guilt. I tried to smooth his embarrassment by shifting things to be about Momma.“Momma is wrong to force you to be this. I could not remember what had happened after the drink. I opened my eyes, but I was in the dark. It was pitch black.I stretched out a hand and found cold metal. I knelt on the hard wood on which I was lying and hit my head on a low ceiling. It did not take long to realise that I was in a cage, a prison that was not even large enough to lie in. Metal bars fenced me all around, through which I could just pass my hands to feel that the cage lay on a cold tiled floor.The thumping of my head subsided as I lay still wondering what had happened.There was a creak of a hinge and a little light entered the room from the top of the stairs. I looked up and realised that I was in the cellar that I had, myself, prepared.A pile of cardboard lay leaning on one wall and I recognised the box which had been delivered had contained this cage. With a click of her heels my wife came down the stairs. She was still dressed in her dessous, a picture of pure allure.?What have you done?? I cried out to her..
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