She rubs her wrists. The marks have gone now, but phantom ropes still grip and bite her now, and that cunt Pavlov does his job- even when the stimulus...is an imagined one. With irritating causal certainty, she seeps.Her mouth is dry.The fridge, door open, whirs into life as the cold continues to flood into the kitchen.He hadn’t been kind. His words had been murmured. Softly and with a level tone. Loaded with intent. His breath in her ear had occasionally overwhelmed her senses, and made her miss. . yeah" I replied not sure what was going on."And your a bad boy, huh?" she then said standing very close to me and looking me in the eye."I suppose" I replied trying to sound casual."Well, there's only one way to deal with bad boys!" she then said, and reaching down she grabbed hold of my tracksuit bottoms and tugged them down.I stared in amazement as she pulled them down to my ankles, and released my dangling cock, before quickly wrapping her hand around it."You have to jerk it out of them!". More

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