She was trembling as she climbed awkwardly onto the seat of the chair, her cuffed hands making it difficult. But she managed to get onto it and finall... stand erect, though almost losing her balance two or three times in the process. Trembling harder now, she very slowly raised her arms, stretching them high over her head. The small chain that linked the cuffs did not quite reach the lip of the hook. Try as she might, she could not get it high enough. With a muffled whimper, she stretched. " He changed the subject. "Do you love your husband? Does he love you?" I don't know. I suppose he loves me in his own way. I make him a comfortable home. I'm a good mother to our two children -- or rather I used to be before I took this job so far away from them. I make more money than my husband. And he fucks me every night. Always the same way. Missionary. Quick. No formalities. No wine and pasta. I'm a receptacle for his sperm." She looked down. "Oh, shit. All this talk and now I've dropped. More

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