His cheery fake ignorance just reinforced it. My twitching right eye seemed to agree, as well.I looked around for the thousandth time. My room, no, my...cell, was relatively large, but mostly empty. There was the simple bed I was lying on, a metal toilet, a mirror and the small wooden table, which was bolted to the wall like everything else. The mirror was made from polished steel instead of glass. I would have committed suicide a long time ago if it wasn’t, which he had obviously taken into. His perfect profile is reflected in the huge mirror. His face is sullen and slightly depraved. It’s beautiful. He is bare from the waist up, the dips and curves of his torso accentuated in the barely there light. He wears jogging trousers on the bottom. The slate grey colour would do nothing to hide a burgeoning erection if it was not already jutting proudly from the waistband. His face is a picture of dominance, his eye have a hooded glaze as if he is so turned on he had turned out everything. More

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