Three hours later, Spike yawned. He was exhausted. Spike had blown five whole loads after Chad had commented that he once orgasmed five times in a row, though he took less than 3 hours. He was coated with sweat, as was his cum soaked towel. Chad, not towel he reminded himself. He had listened to Chad's pained laments and pleas between wanks, and it had made him hornier. He wondered if Chad realized that? No matter, Chad was in no position to do anything except be Spike's plaything. Plaything? Yes!
Spike proceeded to twist, turn and tie his towel like they do on cruise ships until he produced a crude rag doll. He laughed, cuddled Chad like a stuffed animal and went to sleep.
Spike was awakened by his County Assigned Psychologist, whom he called Dr. Shrinker.
"What do you want, Shrinker?"
"Don't you think you're a bit old for ragdolls?"
"Oh, it's not really a ragdoll, it's my wanking towel. Linus has his Security Blanket, and I have this!" Spike exclaimed madly.
"I can never tell with you whether you're serious or toying with me?"
"But that's your job, isn't it?"
"Give me the towel. I'll get you a clean one."
"Why do you want my cum-soaked towel, Shrinker? Are you some sort of perv?"
"No- I- uh-argh!" Shrinker left in a fluster.