"You don't have to like the s.o.b. but you gotta respect him."In the cellar, Mark Outhwaite sat on the narrow bed, to which he was chained, and regard...d his second wife, Helen, coldly. She was suspended, by her wrists, from a pulley attached to the ceiling. Her feet barely reached the ground. She could sometimes ease the pain in her arms by standing tip-toed on the stone floor of their prison. She was wearing a transparent nightdress, cum-stained and torn. Mark couldn't help her, even if he'd. "Baby, I have been missing you for two months. I have some loving in mind," I told her.She was clearly nervous, not wanting me to suspect that she had just had Thsam's dual tool up her orifices."I don't know, Hun," she said trying to delay, "I've had a slight infection that the Medico told me to avoid any pokey-probey until tomorrow!" What a feeble excuse.Not responding to her, I pick up the Lubrisoap, guaranteed to lubricate for personal pleasure while cleaning in the shower. We used it often. More

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