*** ``What will you do if I let you down?'' ``.*** ``What will you do if I let you down?'' ``...Anything.'' ``Oh, really? Anything?'' ``...Yes, sir.'' ``Will you, oh, let's see...will you masturbate to my directions?'' ``If you like, Sir.'' ``Will you talk to me while you are doing it?'' ``...talk about...?'' I slap the same breast again. Such a nice breast for hitting; small, firm, delicately pointed. The woman gasps. *** ``You may open your eyes,'' I say. ``I am now going to let you down onto the chair.'' I can see her face, showing relief, then trying to hide it. I slide the chair around until it is posi- tioned up against the backs of her legs, the pole-like rear leg sticking up at an angle. She looks over her shoulder at the chair, and then at me. I get another gob of Crisco, and slowly and thoroughly smear it all over the chair leg, around the knobby top and a foot down the rounded, polished shaft. The woman looks at the chair leg, at my hand, and then at my face. Her expression becomes...profound. A complex mixture of terror and desire, one might almost say. She whispers, like dry leaves rattling, ``I..._can't_.'' I smile. ``You will.'' ``It'll hurt me. It could KILL me!'' ``Well, you've got those nice long legs, and last night, I meas- ured you and the chair, dozens of times, and sawed four inches off the bottoms of the chair legs.'' I wipe my greasy hands on her T-shirt, and reach for the ropes holding her wrists to the top of the door frame. |