Well... like a torture chamber. You know. Like in the inquisition. Not like in Iraq or some shit hole. Somewhere where they treat you properly as they...torture you. Like a witch or someone. You know. Strappado. Rack. Hot things. Spikes. Ropes. Whips. Dark places and flaming torches and flickering shadows.'Poetic' I say.Yeah. She says. Poetic. Pain poetry. We should write a book.And you? She says.Hmmm. I guess the same. I say. Or an old bedstead and electricity on my tits and cunt.And him? She. 30am and finished around 7.30pm each night. It wasn’t much of a life and certainly not a career I or Daniel ever thought about pursuing. Because Daniel’s parents were rarely home we got to hung around his house a lot and watch his dads collection of porn. This is how my first encounter started, I was 15 at the time, athletic build, a winger on the local rugby team, and not too bad looking if I do say so myself. Daniel was a couple of years older than I and build more like a man. He was well. More

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