The cleaner returns.

As promised, you are left alone for the remainder of the day. You spend your time pacing your cell, contemplating your newest fantasies, and keeping active. You continue the meager regiment of 2 feedings per day, getting lucky with soup first try both times.

When you awake the next day you continue with your growing routine, getting in some exercise before giving in to your terrible hunger every "morning". Your sense of time is all but lost at this point, and you feel like you're making it all up everytime you wake up. Another dose of 'This is your purpose. You are a tool. A sex toy for others. You need cum. You live for it.' drones along as you eat 'breakfast'.

A loud knocking hits your door. You are more surprised by the knock than the disturbance; everyone else has just been barging in. Could this be the man from before? This seems to be following a pattern, so you recite your previous line.

"Go away!" This time you are much more comfortable saying the words.

As if awaiting the cue, the man enters the room quickly. You recognize his gargantuan frame and beard from before, also the laughable yellow kitchen gloves. It has been over 5 days since his last visit. He has the little remote in hand this time, hitting the button right after he enters. The mannequins retract into the wall once again, and the pressure washers rev-up. He begins to unfasten his belt, by now you know what is expected of you. You steel yourself for what is to come, but hope beyond hope that this man is actually trying to help you escape. He pushes his flaccid dick towards your face, and you can't help but turn away. By now the pressure washers are at full blast.

"I've been weighing your options," He says with a sigh, "but it's not looking good."

You feel a terrible dread wash over you. This man is must be playing games with your head. Why would he offer escape and then come back empty handed?

"There is a very small window at the end of each month where there are half as many staff on duty." He thrusts his hips forward again, his dick still soft. "That's a full week away. You've been...cooperating...and that's good. You've got to keep it together for seven more days and I should be able to help spring you out of here. You need to be unbound, and ready to run at that time."

"But what about Jess and Troy?" The words are muffled by the limp dick in your face, you couldn't help but ask.

"Jess is untouchable -- she was the target -- but Troy..." He trails off, hesitant. "Troy is...not exactly interested in leaving."

Before you know it, the pressure washer finishes its cycle and the man's otherwise gentle persona changes. His cock is still soft, and instead of forcing it into your mouth he pulls back and slaps you across the face. Hard.

"You need to apply yourself, ****. You couldn't even get me hard. This calls for punishment."

Your heart races as he pulls a rope from his belt. Dammit, I don't want to be tied up again! And he said I need to be UNBOUND! You scramble away from the man instinctively, but he quickly follows you and grabs you by your hair. Dragging you over to the mannequins, he places you in front of the freshly cleaned silicone cock and wraps the rope around the male model, tying your hands behind the back of the thing. He places a hand on the back of your head and forces you down onto the cock. This is your purpose. You are a tool. A sex toy for others. You need cum. You live for it.

"It's time you really practice servicing a cock." He turns to leave, but pauses momentarily, " Your audience would love to see you practice."

He leaves you tied to the thing as you hear the door close behind you. Fuck. Bound again, and stuck in front of a cock. You take a moment to collect yourself, still trying to figure out if this man is trying to help you or hurt you. Everyone's actions in this place are so ****. You don't know what to think, but you hold on to the hope you have left. Your audience would love to see you practice. Yeah, I'm sure they would.