The plane finally arrives over Mexico City at sunset, mountain ridges are poking up from the misty clouds, blue zigzags within milky blue, and above the roseate gold sun touches the world.

A glinting in the distance, I am not sure if it is a lake or another plane on a different trajectory.

The edge of the sky glows behind the darker mountains, pinkish red…

I am sprawling in the dingy light, behind the bars that contain me, keeping me penned into the corner of the room. I am not really there as a possession, treasured or otherwise, I am not really something he would display to other people. But, in the recesses of his mind I am on display, I am defined by the sex we have had, and by the ideal of a mute naked slave, existing only to perform for him. A casual pet.…

It is as if my lips have been sewn together, each time I want to communicate with you I am pulling on the stitches, the muscles around my mouth twitch now in anticipation of the tearing pain; if I carry on I will have short stubby whiskers as the knots come loose.…

I guess the only thing I am giving up is the sexual excitement. I don’t have that, and by that I don’t mean that we don’t do it, but just its mundane, normal sex. She is not up to experimenting or doing things different. Its like a one off relief then that’s it. Not like doing it over and over because you can’t get enough of each other. I think though that that maybe an acceptable compromise, because at the end of the day all relationships get to be the norm, and the fizz of something new…

Quite often when I went down to the washing room, the cotton lined wicker basket was standing in front of the machine in the corner by the drain; sometimes it stood there for days on end with the same load untouched inside.

I had never seen the machine's owner, although I had started to build up a picture of the person through looking at the washing swirling around through the glass door, I…