Chapter Nine
R.I.P. Hank
At that particular moment, Hank was at home, learning to crawl around a stone-floor without use of his hands. It was a simple task, but was complicated by the arm binder that held his arms close together behind him, palms pressed together and attached by a short chain to his shackled ankles. A short metal spreader bar locked just above his kneels held his legs apart and further inhibited any rapid movement across the rough stone floor. The inflatable p***s gag in his mouth kept his complaints mostly quiet and the stainless steel-handled leather crop being liberally applied to his thighs and ass encouraged him to move as quickly as he could while the short brown horse tail plugged into his ass waved in the breeze caused by the flail. Hank was very much alive, but
