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He grabbed a small bottle of dirty water and took a long pull. It tasted horrible, gritty and stale. But it was water. The package he had rescued sat amongst the pile, its lid opened and the contents removed. He knew they would do some good, but would they do enough? He walked back to the chair and fell asleep again, his dreams peaceful, calm and misleading. Hushed, animated voices. John did not get to sleep long, his dreams of a cottage in the country rudely interrupted by a weak hand shaking his shoulder. He opened one eye, told the person to fuck off, and closed it again. The hand persisted and he finally opened both eyes. ‘What?’ He sat up slowly, running a hand quickly through his hair. A group of people stood around him, his rescued package held by one of them. ‘We need you to go back. There wasn’t enough for everyone. One more trip, John, that’s all we ask.’ Heads nodded in agreement. John rested his arms on his knees, considering what they were asking him. He didn’t want to. I had gone to a lot of trouble to make this moment happen, and so had my Master, and I very much wanted to make good on my promises.Finally the door to my rear opened and he unlocked my ankle cuffs just long enough to free my shorts. He rechained my ankles, but I was free of the seat post. It was clear I would be out of the van soon. Opening the opposite door he unlocked the wrist cuffs from the seat post chain, and still without a single word having been spoken, he pulled on my cuffs in such a way that it was clear that I was to follow. The leg irons had only about eight inches of chain, and between that, the blindfold, the stiffness that had set in during the drive here, and my cuffed wrists, I was more than a little clumsy as I tried to sit up on the seat and swing my legs over the door sill. My bare feet touched concrete and immediately my Master began to pull me forward. I had no idea at all of what sort of place we were in but I could hear enough ambient noise to know it was.
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