A new man enters, a red-head. He strokes Matie’s body, appreciating every inch. But he doesn’t speak: Matie is an object, a sculpture, something to be admired, owned, not treated with humanity. The red-head, Matie soon discovers, is as cruel as Jared. He places two clothespins on each of his nipples, then covers his penis and scrotum with biting clips. Matie cries out, whimpering like a boy, but he is helpless. All he can do is suffer. The man tickles Matie’s feet with a feather duster. Even with their dancer’s calluses, his feet are extremely ticklish. He laughs — and cries — at the same time. Now he will be fucked, hanging in midair.
