“Has he done anything, you know, inappropriate?”The entirety of last night flashed before her memory. The club, the stern voice, the beating, and ...he fucking. She was struck for words.“He has.” Clayben said as fact.“I didn’t say anything.”“Listen, I’m going to take a big chance here. You gotta help me out. This is a life and death kind of secret, okay?” He raises his hand as he asks her discretion, but he doesn’t touch her. He wears the eyes of a man constrained, driven by clarity of purpose.. “Miss Bell, could you please turn around. I shall show the class how these handcuffs were applied.” Chelsea turned her back to the class and put her hands behind her back. The Professor put the handcuffs on her wrists and adjusted them so they were snug, but not tight. "How does that feel, Miss Bell?" he asked. "Fine, Professor," she said. "Shall we try the leg irons now?" "Yes, if you like." So Professor Diederich took the leg irons from off the table and knelt down to attach them to her. More

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