It comes unexpectedly.
I am standing beside the desk, waiting for Sam to take me downstairs, where I will spend the evening enjoying a generous serving of flagellation and sodomy; when I finally have a chance to swipe my keepsake.
Sam has yet to arrive, and Tabby is momentarily distracted by her search for a suitable synonym. Since my hands are cuffed behind me, I have to back up to the desk in order to snag my prize and palm it.
It’s nothing, really, just a paper clip.
Sam never sees it, though she whips my ass around the basement and reams me for hours. She doesn’t even notice the way my fist stays clenched while she padlocks the chain around my cuffs to tether me to the post before going upstairs for the night.
This is easier than I hoped for. Thanks to Sam’s diet plan, I am skinny
