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Subject: RopeBinder...Working Away (Mf, bdsm, bond, tort, etc)
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RopeBinder Library is at www.geocities.com/soho/coffeehouse/4040/

Working Away

It was a busy week, a busy workweek, yet he'd set time aside to meet her. Now
back at his office, a million things to do, he sat, thinking...daydreaming. He
should
have been concentrating on something else, but his attention wavered. Images
flashed before him, her smile when they first met, black knee-highs gripping
her lower
thighs, her expression as he playfully grabbed a chunk of her hair. It was no
use. He worked halfheartedly.

Their time had been brief, two hours to be exact. Halfway through lunch, rain
attacked the window behind them. What did it mean? Death in fiction, but not
this
time. It meant something else. He wasn't sure. Conversation was pleasant, tight
yet easy, passing over subjects uncommon with the lunch crowd. They talked, at
times nervous of eavesdropping ears and at other times not caring. Her smile
came easily. Her gestures told him what she wanted, what she was hoping he'd
see,
but unfamiliarity kept them distant. This would take time.

Their goodbye was cute and uncomfortable. She tried to duck out, but he called
her back, wanting another look at her tiny frame dressed in black. They smiled,
embraced and pecked each other, destiny unknown.

Sliding into her leather car seat, he challenged, "Raise your skirt."

She smiled sassily, "No."

He smiled again. He expected her to fight. That was her nature, a fighter, 5'2"
of feisty determination. Perhaps she thought he didn't understand. He was
difficult to
read. He was mysterious. They would be marvelous together.

The next day, he picked up the phone and asked her to meet him. She didn't know
why she agreed. She needed time to think, but she was drawn. A magnet pulled
her. Two hours later, they stood toe-to-toe.

"You want to fight with me, don't you?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, taken by surprise.

"You know exactly what I mean," he countered, "You want me to take you, to
brandish my desire for you."

"I'm not sure," she admitted, "I'm still uneasy about things, our common
ground, your needs."

"Nonsense," he quipped, "only two things matter...our desires and how we funnel
them."

He reached for the nape of her neck, caressing it with his fingers, playing
with the tiny hairs draping her skin. He caught her eyes with his...both
frozen. He slowly
gathered her hair in his hand, some in his palm, some tangled with his fingers.
Improving his grip on her mane, they breathed quicker now.

"Let's be clear," he whispered, "I don't expect you to come willingly, but I
know your desire. Our arrangement will be flexible. I care not if one day
you're the willing
submissive and the next you're a feisty opponent, but understand that the
result will always be the same. You will be mine. Do you understand?"

She said nothing. With playful anger in her eyes, she tried to spin from his
grasp, but he tightened it.

"This will get as rough as you want," he continued, "I hope we don't come to
blows. I don't want to get hurt," he smiled, knowing her vicious uppercut, "but
I will
defend myself and in the end, you will lose."

His smile softened her. She smiled, but still tried to break free. He pulled
her closer, as much to protect himself as to feel her beating heart. Tugging
her hair
downward, he exposed her neck. He thought briefly of vampires and bent his lips
to her flesh. She smelled fresh...womanly. He sucked her through his nostrils,
then
his lips, finally chewing on her neck, letting her know the possibilities. With
a surprising toss by her hair, he threw her to the floor. Caught off guard, she
landed in a
heap, legs and arms pointing different directions.

"Sara, I will often give you choices," he said with a serious tone, "Each
option will typically end in the same result, but I will let you choose the
method or path. I will
do this to measure how deeply your needs run, but sometimes it's purely for my
amusement. For instance, right now, I want you to remove your clothing...ALL OF
IT. If you're reluctant, I will assist you. If your mood is stubbornness, I
will cut them from you, although it pains me to think of ruining your outfit."

She sat motionless. She didn't know what to say or if she was ready. They'd
only met yesterday. "Why is he doing this?" she thought, "Why must I leave my
comfort
zone now?" She was paralyzed.

He went to the chair and waited. Several minutes of silence passed. Then she
rose and delicately shed her clothing. She stood before him, hands in front,
covering
herself, shortened breath, chest slightly heaving, nipples tightly knotted,
nervousness pervading. He loved this moment, the exhilaration of anxiousness.
She loved it
also. He sat a moment longer. In silence he drank in his first gaze at her
flesh. His desire mounted. He called inside himself for control. He rose and
walked behind
her.

"Hold still," he said reaching around her body. With the slightest touch, his
fingers traced along her upper thighs and across her stomach, then over her
breasts and
tightened nipples. He rested his hands near her neck, on her collarbone.

"Are you excited?" he whispered, just wanting her hear her answer.

"Yes," she exhaled.

"Good," he whispered into her ear.

His fingers continued exploring. He closed his eyes wanting to know her body.
This was the first step. Their breathing collaborated. His chest and stomach
pressed
against her back. She nestled her head to his chest. They floated away before
he stopped and backed away. Now he stood in front of her. Tipping her chin to
his,
faces inches apart, he spoke.

"I want to kiss you, but that will wait. I want to whip you, but you're not
ready," he stared into her eyes, "First, we'll test your desires, a simple
test. It will go on as
long as you tell me. The difficulty is that your words will be meaningless.
Come...I'll show you."

He sat on the edge of the bed and with a gesture and a firm grip on her wrists
pulled her over his thighs. Her chest and stomach supported her weight on him.
With
his left arm, he held her shoulders tightly to his thigh. Her arms and legs
dangled freely.

He continued, "I enjoy spanking, but in my mind, it doesn't compare to
whipping. I find whips more versatile and more fun, but spanking provides an
intimacy that's
difficult to duplicate. My hand against your bottom will give me a better feel
for your desires and limitations. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jeffrey." It was the first time she'd spoken his name.

"I believe that thresholds are difficult to discuss," he said. "Pain clouds the
mind, but never the senses. Irrelevancies and mirages can be mistaken for
reality. I believe
there is nothing your words can tell me that your body can't tell me more
accurately. Am I being clear?"

"I'm not sure...I think so," she said with apprehension.

"For example, I'll stop spanking you intermittently. It will give you a
reprieve and a moment for me to examine your needs. During each pause, I will
dip my fingers
into your pussy. If you're dry, we'll stop. If you're wet, we'll continue until
my hand tires. Is this acceptable?"

Pausing briefly, Sara murmured, "Yes, Jeffrey," but she knew her fate. He
hadn't touched her and her pussy was drenched. Had he opened her flowered lips,
she
was certain her fluids would stream to the floor. She closed her eyes and
waited, amazed at how differently she saw him than 24 hours ago.

It always amazed him that no matter how shapely a woman's behind, it's beauty
was enhanced tenfold when draped over his thighs. It felt natural and
uncontrollable
to stoke and brush her bottom with the palm of his hand. He thought of forcing
her thighs apart slightly, but decided against it. Her clenched thighs were her
mask
hiding her wetness. He would let her part them when she was ready.

She hadn't anticipated that he'd start out so briskly. Perhaps she thought a
warming up period was in order. The first sting of his hand shook her. Each
stroke
seemed stronger than the last, but it wasn't. The sensation was caused by the
increasing redness and blood flow in her bottom. By the time he reached ten
strokes,
palm prints painted her backside.

She'd kept still and silent mostly. Her desire to show her toughness impressed
him. He massaged her redness before touching her swollen opening. Two fingers
stroked her lips, and she cooed. Gently prying them apart, he discovered what
he already knew. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, pressing
against
her belly. He thought he felt her squirm to touch it with her stomach, but he
wasn't sure. "Enough of this childish pleasuring," he thought and continued the
spanking.

At some point he lost track of the count. His hand swelled and matched the
color of her bright pink bottom. He slowed his strokes, grabbing handfuls of
flesh. The
grabbing provided no physical relief, but the mingled throbbing of his hand and
her behind excited him. She parted her legs, now barely fitting on his right
thigh. He
took the invitation and twisted his strokes, slapping her pussy and asshole. He
held her shoulder blades tightly with his left arm, but she bucked wildly
anyway. Sex
permeated the room.

"Tell me what you want, Sara."

"I don't know what you mean," she whimpered.

"I'm tired of your games. I want to know what you're thinking at this moment. I
want you to quit pretending that you're some high-class executive that needs to
fit
your next orgasm into your busy schedule. Tell me what you want!"

"I want to cum…" she whispered.

"Then ask...ask for what you want."

She paused, but he waited. "Please...Jeffrey...make me cum."

He paused longer, "I want you to cum, Sara, but I have a condition."

"Anything."

"If I do this for you, you belong to me. Know fully what that means and choose
wisely."

Their silence was tense, but her answer unwavering, tough as she was, "Yes,
Jeffrey. I understand. God I want to cum...pleeeaaasssee."

"As you wish, my love."

And he stroked her hood gently, tracing his fingertips along its edges, then
along its length, brushing her swollen knob with each stroke. At first he was
amazed and
distracted by her wetness, then he reveled in it pressing deeply inside her
with his thumb and brushing her clit with his fingertips. Bending at his waist,
he pressed his
lips to the nape of her neck. Then breathing lightly into her ear, he asked her
to cum for him. Eventually, she did, with such force that he had to hold her
tightly to
keep her from falling.

Panting and baked with sweat, she gathered herself and climbed to straddle his
thighs. With a hungry look, she pushed her hands against his shoulders until
she
toppled him onto the bed. She gripped her arms around his neck tightly and
drove her tongue into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her midsection and
savored her taste. A simple kiss that turned seconds into minutes and then
longer. He caressed her back and behind, soothing her pain with his aching
hands. Their
adventure had just begun.

Not long into their delicious kiss, Sara felt Jeffrey's arousal pressing into
her belly. Her seductive slide across his chest and hips was prolonging the
arousal, but
when she looked into his eyes, she saw a detached, observant gaze. He was hard,
but not lost in her charms. To entice him, she playfully reached between his
legs,
unzipped his jeans and encircled his cock with her warm fingers. "Come on
sweetheart, your turn," and she maneuvered his bruised tip toward her parted
legs. 

With discipline and a bit of regret, Jeffrey pushed her back, took firm hold of
her wrists and sat himself upright. "I will decide when it is time for us to
cum, not you.
Do you understand? When you are with me, I will be the one who allows you
pleasure. When you want to cum receives little sympathy, although I derive
tremendous enjoyment from your need." He got up and walked into the dimly lit
bathroom. Sara could see his reflection in the glass as he closed his eyes, ran
his
fingers down the damp hair on his chest and began to stroke himself. She
watched in amazement, as he chose his own hand over her pussy. She had no
response
except to observe in wonder as he groaned at the pleasure that shot out the end
of his cock. 

Jeffrey slowly cleaned himself. It had taken all of his willpower to push her
off him and walk into the bathroom. God, he hated not to indulge himself in her
warmth
and flesh. It was a pity. But he needed to play the chess game several moves
ahead in his mind. Tonight's small sacrifice would serve him well. All his
creativity and
cleverness would be required to keep her mind engaged.

To be controlled and at the whim of a man was not her usual position. In past
experiences, she had always found it very easy to back men into a corner, to
control
the pace and timing of relationships. Rarely, if ever, was she surprised. She
often amused herself by toying with the behaviors and egos of men she
encountered. She
wondered if this man was different...how different...would he change her
thinking?

He walked back into the bedroom and extended his hand. He helped her off of the
bed and gathered her clothing. With very little conversation he assisted her
dressing. With every question she began, he placed his finger to her lips, a
request for silence. He walked her to the door and chastely kissed her good
bye. "Sara, I
will call for you soon." And with that he left her perplexed and questioning,
standing blankly in the middle of the hallway. She now wanted him more than she
had
ever wanted a man. She could not wait until he called and she wanted to know
everything about this strange man and his game.

The next day at work was a test of facade for Sara. A dozen red roses were
delivered in the middle of her staff meeting, she was annoyed at the
distraction and saw
the winks and smiles from her co-workers. She hated them knowing anything about
her personal life. "Aren't you going to open the card?" " Who are they from?"
When she read the tiny card inserted into the bouquet, her body temperature
flushed. "The color of these roses can only come close to the shade of red left
on your
beautiful bottom last night." She was inflamed.

Later that afternoon her secretary placed a box on her desk. It was wrapped in
the distinctive signature color from Ivy's, an upscale lingerie store. She
pushed the
box under her desk and opened it after she was alone. The card lying on the
tissue read, "I look forward to freeing you from this later tonight."

She pulled the paper aside to look at an old fashioned, golden cream satin,
thickly boned corset, something like her grandmother might have worn. It was
heavy
with lots of straps and hooks and designed to keep everything from shaking. On
an old woman the outfit might look comical, on her it would look outstanding.

The garment was not what she had expected. She had never worn and certainly
never needed anything so binding. She was indignant that he would ask her to
wear
it. He couldn't possibly think that get-up was sexy?

The receptionist rang her later in the day. "Sara, I have a message from a Mr.
Jeffrey." 

"Oh my God, what now?" she thought. 

"He said that a driver will pick you up at 7:00 p.m. to bring you to dinner. He
wants you to wear what he sent this afternoon. Does that make any sense, Sara?"

"Yes, thank you." and she hung up quickly. He really had a lot of nerve
intruding in her work place, it undercut her authority. She assured herself
that she would let
him know, in no uncertain terms, that his behavior was unacceptable. But anger
aside, she was still curious. She wouldn't miss meeting him.

She stepped out of the tub and did her hair and make-up. She enjoyed the
ritual. It was 6:30 and it was time to get into the corset. It took close
examination to
figure out what went where as she laced the ties and fastened the dozens of
eyehooks. She had to inhale sharply to close the final hooks. He had misguessed
her
size by one. The bone stays forced her back ramrod straight and nipped her
waist uncomfortably. The heavy elastic pressed on her stomach and molded her
breasts, the flesh swelled over the top of the demi-cups. She was accustomed to
high cut bikinis briefs that felt like feathers and was surprised at the tight
pressure
exerted as the snug fabric pulled over her waist, ass, hips and finally ended
like a 1950s bathing suit across her upper mid thigh. It was a Lycra squeeze
and heavy,
but as she looked at herself in the mirror she had to admit, there was a
certain fetish genius in his selection. She was a 1990s muscle buffed Rita
Hayworth. "Not
bad, Jeffrey."

The driver maneuvered through town to her dinner destination. He said nothing,
except to ask her if she wanted a different music selection. She declined. She
didn't
hear the music anyway. The corset was a distraction. It cut into her waist and
rubbed under her armpit.

When they neared the restaurant, the driver slowed and turned to hand her a
slim box. "These are from Jeffrey. You will want to wear them later. They may
prevent
your wrists from chaffing, if you struggle against the ropes."

She was mute with indignity at this stranger who was more aware of her evening
than she. None the less, she fingered the cream elbow length evening gloves
that felt
smooth and elegant to the touch. She tucked them into her purse as she left the
car.

Jeffrey was waiting at the table as she made her way to him. He stood and met
her half way, greeting her with a radiant smile. "You look beautiful,
sweetheart." He
handed her a single blood red rose and winked. Ignoring the diners around him
who might be watching, his hand cupped her still sore ass and he pulled her to
him to
meet with a kiss. He worked his hand up the back of her dress feeling the
corset. "You look stunning, thank you for wearing my gift. How do you feel?"

The day's humiliation spit out, "How do I feel? My behind is still throbbing.
You embarrassed me at work. I'm pinched in this heavy girdle and that damned
driver of
yours must have thought I was a whore. That's how I feel." She pouted trying to
regain some footing.

Jeffrey's smile faded. "Stop whining, it doesn't flatter you, besides, you have
nothing to protest yet. This is what I have selected for you, they are my
requests of you.
Let's enjoy our meal. I want to share your company and watch you dine." Her
grievance had little effect on him.

The dinner passed quickly as it typically would with any two people newly taken
with each other. She kept suspicion in check waiting for innuendo or surprise,
it
never came. He was entranced by her subtle shifting to unobtrusively find a
comfortable position in what he knew must be a rather stiff under garment. He
smiled
when she reached to pay the bill and nodded to her. If it gave her a shred of
superiority, it would be false and short lived.

They returned to his home and sat on the sofa drinking a glass of wine.

"Listen Jeffrey, we really need to talk. Last night when you...spanked me," she
had trouble with the word, "and today...this corset and all...I'm not really
into all of
this. It's not me. I don't want to give you the idea that I think what you did
was right or the way I'm used to being treated...I don't..."

He took her hair so swiftly that it cut her off in mid sentence. "Sara, do not
try to impress me with dignified back peddling. You might need to play the part
during
the day, that's your affair, but I felt how you soaked yourself. I heard you
plead and I saw the desperation in your eyes when I left you last night. And
don't forget,
you agreed to an oral contract, I let you cum and now you are mine. That was
your choice."

"I was never one much for lawyers but perhaps it would be appropriate to remind
you that an oral contract is binding. And possession is 9/10th of the law." 

Jeffrey stood and took her wine glass. He drew her from the seat and firmly
held her hands. He examined her slim wrists and then turned them over to admire
the
pale underside. "If you have the gloves I sent you, now would be a good time to
put them on."

"And Sara, in case you feel the need to play a part, I must share with you,
that while I admire and understand your pride, there is no reward for dignity
in my bed.
There will be no need for dignity while you are with me."

When the leather cuffs were locked on to her gloved wrists, she closed her eyes
and fought the urge to flee, she had seconds to change her mind but elected not
to.
"This is against all good judgment, but damn, I can already feel the heat
between my legs." She could not, would not retreat. 

He had done this before but was always in awe of a first session, it was like
lucid dreaming or staring in your own fantasy. He would savor each reflex,
sound and
reaction that passed her limbs. He was not without reflexes of his own
significance but his time would come later. He slowly pulled her arms behind
her back and
anchored the cuffs to each other. Next he secured her wrists to a short rope
tied to a post at the foot of his bed. She had a short lead but some distance
to move.

"I treasure this time of exploration, the chance to know how your body reacts
to me and my touch. I was surprised that you withstood so many swats last
night, but
then again, perhaps I should not have been. You are too proud to ask for any
mercy. And I am too experienced to show you any. Your pussy gave you away,
anyhow. We will continue to find out how badly you want to please me."

A thin moan, perhaps of panic, escaped her lips as he covered her eyes with a
tight blindfold. He placed a kiss on her lips as he stepped away. She reached
forward to him, eager for his reassurance and touch. He was her captor, her
safe haven. She was concerned but also needed him for her every breath. As she
reached the end of her rope, her arms pulled back behind her and thrust her
chest out further. He stood back to admire. "I'll have to confess, you look
even better
than I imagined in the corset. I could look at you like this, for hours, but I
have other things in mind." While the corset afforded her some degree of
modesty and
cover, her increasingly heavy breathing was becoming painful, she had to
regulate her intake with small expansions of her ribs. But even in the midst of
blindfolded
darkness, she wished she could see herself, she knew she looked good.

While it had taken her 15 minutes to get into the corset, it dropped around her
ankles in seconds. She took a free deep breath and felt cooler air wash over
her
moist skin. He examined the red creases and marks where the garment left its
impression. She had gone from compressed to exposed in a blink.

"Are you sore from last night?" he asked, reaching to caress her bottom. She
squirmed and nodded yes.

"But if I asked you, you would turn around and present your ass to me for more
of the same?"

"God, not again, please no," she thought, sheepishly nodding her head.

"Turn around, Sara."

She started shaking and a whimper pierced the room.

"Turn around! Do it now!"

She turned her back to him. The rope crossing her shoulders held her arms tight
to her side with her chest pressed to he bedpost. Her legs were trembling.

He watched her shaking back and could smell the sweat of her fear. It was
incredible what she would do for him.

After a minute he spoke, "Very good, Dear. I don't want your ass tonight but it
was important that you complied. Turn and face me."

Her reprieve was short lived but the focus took a different turn as Jeffrey
cupped her breast and forcefully pulled a nipple into his mouth working the
flesh into a firm
tip. He moved to the other and did the same. He opened the mouth of the clamps
and in a sure motion, attached them to the rose colored flesh that housed more
nerve ending than any other place on her body except her clit. She jumped at
the sudden sensation, the unfamiliar surprise. It would take a few minutes for
the full
effect of the clips to work their way into her skin and grow in intensity. She
waited in a frozen state while he tied a satin cord to the center of the chain
connecting
the two nipples.

Jeffrey crossed the room and pulled a chair about four feet away from her. She
heard him sit. If she thought distance meant relief, she was wrong.

As the clamps dug in, Sara wondered if the feeling would plateau or increase.
Would she loose feeling or would it magnify? In a short time she knew the
answer,
increase and magnify. Her hands gripped the bedpost behind her, a pathetic
substitute for biting the bullet but at least it offered some support.

He remained quietly seated, watching and she waited trying to gain mind control
over her hot nipples.

Suddenly she felt a quick tug on the chain and she gasped at the sharp bite.
Jeffrey had the satin cord between his fingers and had finally decided to
activate his link
to her nerves. The puppet master wanted to see her dance. Again he gave a quick
pull and she grunted at the jolt.

"Do you want to kiss me, Sara?"

"Yes."

"Let's see how badly you want it."

Jeffrey pulled the cord taut and exerted steady pressure. The nipple chain
pulled and he could see the effect it had on stretching her skin. She leaned
forward and
took a short step toward him to relieve the burn in his pull. He wrapped the
slack around his hand and kept up the pressure. She was forced to come even
closer or
endure the pain. As he continued to reel her in, the wrist rope behind her
tightened, pulling her arms behind her. He guessed she could only come forward
another
12 inches or so before the stop point in her shoulders reached its limit. He
wanted to see how she would handle this dilemma.

She was well aware of the forces at play, the ache in her arms versus the pull
on her nipples. "Please Jeffrey, enough."

"Enough? You disappoint me, Sara. I thought you would go at least THIS far for
me." And he pulled her further toward him. Her nipples screamed as she took a
last tiny step to ease the tension but she discovered her shoulders now took
the full brunt of the agony. Yet he did not slack the cord. He let her hold for
a minute to
regroup and then one more slight pull. That pull was enough to bring a genuine
moan. She bent her back and leaned forward the last three inches her body could
go.
She was taut and balanced on the edge of control. Sweat broke out on her
forehead and Jeffrey watched her twisted face, just inches form his. She was
lost inside
her mind and fought to hold herself together. Her concentration was singular.
He held the cord carefully but firmly in front of her chest and rose to place
his mouth
next to her ear. She was so still, barely able to take a breath for fear of
sending shock waves through her breasts.

"I could hold you here like this all night, if I chose to," he whispered. She
nodded and pushed out a groan.

With his free hand, he reached behind her and felt the liquid silk that had
coated her inner thighs. "Unbelievable," he thought.

"I know that you must be uncomfortable and I think your arms hurt more than
your nipples, but you have said very little. Are you worried about losing your
dignity?"

She did not respond

"I asked you a question and you WILL answer me." His next tug released her.

She screamed at the sensation, the swell of her clit, his close voice in her
ear, the helpless situation and the fireworks in her nipples exploded every
trace of
willpower. "No dignity," she pleaded. "Let me go, let me cum for you, anything
you want..." She was panting and he could hear the desperation. She was close
to
the end.

"Would you suck me off?" "Yes"

"Would you let me whip you?" "Yes"

"Would you let me fuck you?" "Anything," she pleaded.

"Do you want me?" "Uh huh"

"Do you need this?" "Yes"

"Do you need me?" "Oh god, yes."

"Are you ready to cum?" "Please, yes, please please please..." said her fading
voice.

"God, you are beautiful and I want you, too."

Jeffrey dropped the cord and untied the rope, but did not take off the
blindfold. He pushed her back on the bed and hungrily fed on her lips. She
pressed her
hips forward into him and returned his kiss with passion. With urgency that had
built over the last few days, he guided his stiff cock into her and lost
himself in the
glorious warm wet world between her legs. It was only an instant before she
broke into a sob as her orgasm finally shuddered to life.  He held her tightly
as he arched his back and drove forward with his own mind blowing release. He
kept his eyes closed as he suffered through the brilliant aftershocks that
rolled through his cock. They were both spent.

Jeffrey rolled off of her stomach and smiled as he brushed the hair out of her
face. "You were magnificent, darling. Thank you." She gratefully returned the
smile. 

"There is just one final thing I need to do," he said as he lowered down her
belly ending with his mouth near her nipple. "This may sting a bit," he reached
for
the clamp, "but these really do need to come off. I'll help you through it."
Jeffrey deftly removed the clamp and instantly locked his mouth onto her nipple
to pull
away the shock as she arched her back and howled at the blood flooding her
nipples. He held her tight as she struggled against him with a burst of
strength.

"You fucking bastard," she roared. He smiled, without his lips leaving her
stinging flesh. She was a handful.

When this task was complete, he gathered her into his arms, kissed the nape of
her neck and began to massage her shoulders.  "Sara, that was really no way to
talk to me," he chuckled. "Now that you have shed your pride, tomorrow  we will
work on your manners. I think we'll start with please and thank you."

Copyright © 1995 by RopeBinder. All rights reserved.
RopeBinder@geocities.com


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