The cashmere sweater lies on the floor, forgotten now. My warm hands hold her shoulders lightly. She smiles, sighs. She presses her breasts against my...chest as she leans forward to receive my kisses. My hand cups the back of her head. She whispers against my lips, "I am your woman." My hands drop to her waist, seeking the buttons of her skirt. Two buttons pose no barrier; the zipper opens noiselessly. She steps back and permits the woolen skirt to puddle at her ankles. . Now I can feel sheen of sweat forming along my back even asI shiver. The leather cuffs that hold my hands bound behind my back are uncoupled,but only to bring my hands forward. The two men separate. The one in frontof me gathers up my hands pulling me forward as he raises my arms toward thechain that dangles from the peak of the tripod. I'm forced forward but a secondcrosspiece just shy of hip height forces me to bend at the waist: my balanceis shifting, breasts swaying and my upper body tips. More

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