Later they sat in the living room sipping champagne, Conan in his dressing gown, Alexandra in one of his shirts, content to be silent in each other’... company. Alexandra admired the framed retro film posters that adorned the walls which evidenced his esoteric tastes and cultivation; Mutiny on the Buses, Come Play with Me and Bio-Dome. His choice of music too spoke of his exquisite sensibility, Kiss’ Heaven’s on Fire purred in the background.“Conan…” said Alexandra a little apprehensively, “I. Its cock is for being tortured.Its ass is for being beaten.Its legs are for being beaten.Its knees are for kneeling.Its feet are for being caned.He cleared his throat, and she looked up and held out her hand.He walked over, and handed her the pad of paper. She plucked the pen from his shirt pocket, and chewed on the end while staring at the computer screen. He stood there for several minutes, waiting patiently, until she minimized the screen and slid the keyboard back. She dropped the notepad. More

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