“You’re kidding, right?” I said.
“No. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to put them and my hands were already locked, so that was as far away as I could reach,” she added, giggling.
“Great,” I said. “Then you can get them out.”
So it went with Penny’s fetishes for chains and crypts.
I was mentally arguing about whether to leave my captive prize splayed out on the floor with a somewhat fouled condom in her hands or to hang her up once again so that the whip might be best applied with as little work as possible on my part. Ah, the troubled choices one must make. Hanging her up won.
Early in our relationship, Penny confided to me that she yearned for tight, inescapable restraint, applied in ways that challenged my creativity. If she was bound in such a manner as to prevent any movemen
