Category: cell

Feminine guiles

She had to do something to keep herself amused. She’d already done today’s Wordle, after all.
She’s also his personal financial advisor – she’s recently encouraged him to move most of his ready cash into envelopes.
She’s lucky to have Sarah, otherwise she’d be a pushover for any chained-up male with a sob story.
Embarassingly, it was only at the top she realised she’d meant to throw something into the rubbish bin and had to lead you right down and then back up again, the silly forgetful thing.
It’s nice and quiet down there, hardly anyone ever visits. Don’t worry, though: there’s a food chute. Well… down there it’s a food chute. On the surface it’s a rubbish chute. Same difference.
Don’t worry, they always schedule some special ‘couple time’ when your wife has you just to herself.

Praise where it’s due

Actually, in context that word made perfect sense.  Just like the words “worm”, “pervert” and “weirdo” in the various contexts she used them in your last performance review.




Good practice for tomorrow.  Sven’s a bit larger – and I imagine his brothers are similar.



Lucy doesn’t mind.  She’s nice like that.

Easier just to run the sessions in parallel, you might think.  And if anyone paid the slightest attention to what you thought, maybe you’d be right, but they don’t so you’re not.


 

 

 

 

Then later on, you can clean up the sticky messes upstairs too.  Probably won’t taste as nice, so make the most of this bit.

 

 

 

Craven cravings

 

It’s not that Robert can’t do his own, obviously.  But you’re so much better at it than him – and so much worse at sex.  It just makes sense all round.


 

You’ll notice she hasn’t said you have to decide quickly, as she’s getting a lot of interest from other potential occupants?  That’s because she isn’t and anyway, she’s already decided.

 

 

A cover’s probably best.  They’re quite compassionate, the two of them, so having something unpleasant like that in sight could ruin what they had planned to be rather a special moment.

 

 

Ah… back in the time when the gimp suit came off at the end of the day. I miss that stage of our relationship, but times change, I suppose, and we move on.

 

 

 

It’s best not to quibble about the word ‘enjoy’.  It’s like the word ‘slavery’ – means different things to different people.


I am not a doormat

OK: that’s not strictly accurate: obviously I am a doormat. But I’m not just a doormat, you know?  I am also a foot-rest, a cup-holder, a draft excluder, a bookshelf end and a rather amusing vase for flowers.  Although no more than three of those things simultaneously.

It’s odd how sometimes the most sadistic individuals so often realise later that they weren’t cruel enough.  My SO has this problem all the time: you’d think she’d learn and stop being so lenient.

So… does that mean next week it’s my turn again?  No?  Oh.

There seems to be quite a lot of shared understanding in that room. Obviously some great teaching techniques being applied.

Lion?  Lover-boy?  Lady-killer?  Liposome?  Leprechuan?

Perhaps they could somehow transplant the ones from the real rapist?  After a fair trial and conviction, obviously.  Oh – he already lost them in the police station?  That’s unlucky.  Funny how often that happens… you’d think the police would take more care.




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