Normally, I’d be impressed by the plush surroundings; the quaint boutique hotel couldn’t be more charming. Chintz. Florals. Sweet scents. Polite English maids. Attentive butlers. However, the contrast between me in my constricting harness and this proper English world couldn’t be more glaring even if I’m the only one who is aware of it.
I remove the dress rather than wrinkle it more, but I refuse to look at myself in the mirror until I’ve had a while to settle. By morning…certainly by morning, I’ll have adjusted some. It won’t be so new, so strange… although strange hardly describes how I feel. I’ve just time-warped into the surreal where one world and one set of rules coexists with an unfettered one where human harnesses and slavery are as normal as tea and crumpets. If Benjamin Lyons wa
