The embarrassment on the little boy's face in the bathtubwas still vivid in her mind.She walked into her bedroom. His wail still filled her ears. His ...earsstill dampened the carpet. The nightlamp still fell in slow motion. Theimage of her young son, her pride, her treasure, still dominated theroom: her blue dress, her pantyhose, her jewelry, her lipstick,her...everything! On him, a thirteen-year-old boy. On his face, shame ---and fear.She wavered, briefly, before she walked into his bedroom.. My ankles are grasped and pulled outwards towards the bottom corners ofthe bed. There is a tight sensation and the soft rubbing sound of ropebeing pulled over rope, then my leg is immobile. This is repeated formy other leg - I feel they are open so wide - and I'm bound, face downin a star upon the bed.I feel safe, there is a degree of trust that most people never feelsince they are never entirely powerless. Your hands squeezing andkneading the flesh of my arse is a welcome sensation. The extra. More

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