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And now her legs were starting to shake from the pain and the strain of holding her hips up off the ground. But he didn't want her to get complacent, and start thinking she could breeze through a punishment with her dignity intact. He knew that with time she'd learn not to presume, but for now, he had to put her in her place before he could hold her again.He knelt straddling her legs, then, deliberately, he reached down and dragged his fingernail over her engorged clit where it was trapped in the clamp.It worked; she shrieked, collapsed, and tried to roll away, but was prevented when he rested his knees on her thighs, effectively keeping her legs open and holding her in place. "You say this is mine?" he asked her, his voice low but intense."Yes, Master..." Then ask me to do it again."She moaned, felt herself getting wetter, despite her discomfort, and made an anguished effort to obey him, but all that came out was a whimpered, "Please..."He slapped her lightly across the face, and. Grabbing my jewelry and my clutch, I rush out the door, the Uber that I called should be here any minute, so I go to my lobby. As I stand on the sidewalk waiting for the Uber to pull up, I hook my necklace together behind my neck, and pull my hair into a loose and low ponytail. The car pulls up, and I slide in the back, telling the driver to take me to The 312 – I’ll start at that bar and work my way around tonight. I answer my phone – it’s my buddy Jeff calling to tell me he’s outside my door, he’s trying to rush me before we’ve even gone anywhere tonight. I grab some extra cash for my wallet, and go downstairs. Jeff is more excited than I am, because he’s convinced tonight’s the night, as is every night with him. We swing by Brandon’s apartment, and he gets in, just as eager as Jeff is. We head towards The 312, their favorite bar, it makes me feel uneasy. My plan is just to lay low and hope the two of them ‘work their magic’ and maybe by some chance I’ll get laid tonight. I know.
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I followed Erich through the doorway and into the dark little kitchen. The only illumination in the room was the pale sunlight that crept in from windows on the southern and eastern walls. The place smelled of drying herbs, smoked meat, and clean linens. I breathed it in as I examined my new surroundings. I was standing in a crowded room. A rustic tiled stove stood to the left of the entry door and beyond that, another door led to a small storeroom. At the center of the room was situated a worn wooden table flanked by two mismatched chairs. Tucked into the southeast corner of the room was a solid wooden bedstead. A tall linen press stood to the right of the bedstead, and a rugged ladder stood against the wall beside it so that one might climb to the loft. Crocks, baskets, and pots were tucked in every corner and on every shelf. Garlands of flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables were draped from the rafters. It was a cozy and entirely charming little house. Erich walked from one side.

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