It was like being hogtied, this acute stress. He’d been disloyal, ungrateful, and unappreciative of the kind of intimate degradation Kim had endured for him, bedding down night after night with someone that didn’t value her properly. He deserved to be punished badly for that. He had to demonstrate his contrition. He needed an ordeal to anneal any future such weakness in his still un-tempered mettle. He had to show the Devil Dykes, his mistress and himself that he was serious about slavery.
Wriggling his arms up even higher, Bob felt the next branch stub. He remembered taking wood from this tree, and understood the angles at play. He could probably get the chain over it going up. Getting it back down would be flat-out impossible; he’d be hooked like a fish.
Or hogtied like a b***h, a gui
