But it was like he read my mind. He pulled his phone out and startedplaying the video of me blowing Fowls. He skipped to the point where Iheard my ow... voice begging to suck his dick."It's gonna take me two minutes to send this little clip to your familyfag. I don't give a fuck. I don't even know you and i'm half pissedalready, so it's very simple. You obey, or you get ready for some prettyawkward conversations".This really wasn't roleplay to him. This was genuine control. I reallydidn't. But Mother constantly reminded him, and the rest of us, that Olu was basically nothing more than a glorified servant, and that my father would soon get bored with his fascination with him. We lived in London until the war started, moving to America right before the Blitz. Dad was still in Africa, oblivious to what was happening in the larger world, living only for his studies, sure that he was about to unearth some historic discovery. I spent the war in America, being educated by a private. More

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