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I found myself in a Potter's tent. Just outside the tent was a makeshift, wooden potter's wheel used for demonstrations. His name was Gary, a well-built sandy-haired guy in a tight tank-top. He looked about thirty-five years old. His pottery was very nice but it was difficult to examine the work because my eye kept returning, for some reason, to his arms. I found them captivating. They were smooth and hairless with thick ropes of defined muscle and prominent blue veins. They certainly weren't body-builder big, but they stood out dramatically, veined and corded. With the slightest move of his body some tight muscle group in the arms would jump to the surface and stand there glistening. The spectacle was so impressive that I found myself looking back and forth from arm to arm, as if watching a show. Oddly enough, there was a strange stirring of pleasure in my loins. Gary busted me watching him and I felt my face redden. He was explaining the process of his craft, how the pottery,. Natalie gets concerned as Sirs home does not have the stairs right by the front door, where is she, her mind begins to panic. She is pushed in to a room and she falls, the floor is hard and she hears the sound of a heavy mans footsteps. she is forcibly dragged and thrown on to something soft, so a mattress and her cuffs are released, although only for a moment. She feels more than one pair of hands on her attaching cuffs to her and suddenly her arms are pulled apart as if rope is being pulled. Next she feels cuffs on her legs and she cannot close them, the unmistakable clue a spread bar has been fitted. The footsteps walk away and then a door slams and click, as if a lock has been engaged. Time passes and the little bit of light that leaks in the sides of the blindfold had long gone when suddenly the door opens and artificial light leaks in. The heavy footsteps approach and suddenly the blindfold removed, the light blinds Natalie for a second but as her eyes adjust she sees the room.
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