At least, it was supposed to be my office. That was where all the financial records and computer equipment were stored. But Cassandra used it far more than I ever did.Cassandra was actually in there when I walked in, plugged into the network and catching up on a week's worth of documents. She looked up and immediately took note of the flames shooting out of my eyeballs. And immediately she asked, "Jonathan, are you alright?"Despite what had happened between us, her first instinct was for my welfare. But this realization passed and irritably I waved her out of the office. "I need the privacy."Unconvinced that she couldn't serve me better by staying and lending her support, she hesitated. After all, she'd always been there for me in the past. But when I waved her away again she obeyed and quickly packed her things.Once Cassandra had left, I settled into the luxurious deskchair she'd just vacated, feeling the warm leather surrounding my body. And staring into the far wall, I began to. In the vain hope that she had been unconscious long enough forthe latches to have opened, she struggled to extricate her wrists from theunyielding clamps, only to desist in despair. Her bladder was painfully full,and she cursed the thirst that had led her to drink so much water immediatelybefore confining her self. On previous occasions she had urinated deliberately,enjoying the lack of inhibitions she felt, but those had been when she'd beenmore or less upright. Now, if she opened her bladder ? when she opened herbladder, that abused organ protested! ? she'd be condemned to lie in it, maybefor hours. But she had no other recourse; with a little sob of disgust, sheflooded the straw beneath her thighs and buttocks with her warm urine The copiousflow finally ceased, and she lay back in relief, feeling the liquid dry onher skin where it was exposed to the hot atmosphere. But under her haunchesthe wet straw was already clammy and uncomfortable. A little later, she found a new cause of.
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