The whole thing starts to turn into a routine. Smiffy shows up, pulls me out of the cage, mouths off about me being a 'no-good little thief' and shit like that, then he get his fun and then puts me back in the cage and buggers off. If he's happy enough he'll come back with a bowl of porridge or water.

And the funny thing is I'm getting used to it. I even start to wank meself off after Smiffy's gone, thinking about what he's been doing to me, thinking about his big dick in me mouth or in me arse.

Days pass, maybe weeks. I'm feeling safe here now. Better here than trying to scrape a living outside, nicking stuff, never knowing when I'm gonna get done for it.

I don't know how it happened but one day I whispers to him "I don't want to tell you where the stuff is ... 'cos I don't want to leave ... Sir".

And he whispers, "Then don't leave" and he kisses me.

And I kiss 'im back.