Danger: Jars are hot. Caution: Glass breaks. Warning: This pressure cooker could blow up.But being an all American boy/girl I patriotically decided to throw away the warnings and do it like I always had done. Meanwhile, while the jars were in the canner, I started to build the shelves that they would be stored on. I picked up the hammer and was warned to wear goggles and gloves to protect myself. The drill warned me not to touch the bit when moving and to wear goggles and secure loose objects like ties and long hair. The saw warned... well you get the idea. I couldn't stand it and escaped as only a true TV can - I ran into the bedroom and got dressed.At least I tried to. I couldn't help myself; I had to see what those little tags on the clothes said. My bra warned me to wash in cold water and hand dry. My girdle warned me that prolonged squeezing of my abdomen could lead to faintness, intestinal problems and funny marks on my skin. My pantyhose could cause strangled calves if worn. This had nothing more to do with searching. I felt totally humiliated. He pulled out his finger and smelled it. “It looks to me like you haven't washed this part of your body in a while” he laughed. Ashamed I bowed my head. “Now I still need to investigate your ass, and if there's nothing in there either, you can go," he said. He ordered me to stand with my face against the wall again, slightly bent over. He put on a latex glove, added some lubricant on it, pulled my buttocks apart and pushed his finger up my ass without excuse. Because of the lubricant it didn't hurt as much as in my pussy. Also here he kept pushing his finger as deep as possible. "This hole hasn't been used much," he joked. I had never felt so humiliated. When he got tired of it, he pulled out his finger and threw the glove in the bin. "Get dressed, pack your luggage and get out of here," he said, unlocking the door. Still sobbing loudly, I got dressed, threw everything back in my suitcase and quickly walked.
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