I was poor and I lived with my family. I wasn't myself, I was an asian person of humble origins. I was captured, somewhat like a slave but also as a guest. I went to the house of a middle class white family. At this home there were all kinds of sexual deviations (the father had sexual relations with the daughter, the father raped the son, the daughters held orgies and they were extraordinarily attractive. I knew I could participate in it, but I chose not to do it. In the end I looked with a bit of envy, but I looked at the psychological issues that these events caused and I told myself I was doing the right thing.
I then escaped and came back home to my wife and my mother. I remember that when I came back I asked which was my bed, they were happy to see me and they showed me the best bed available. On one hand I felt loved because they had respected my place in the house, and on the other I felt guilty because my bed was much better than theirs.
