I could walk, but not quickly or gracefully.I could walk, but not quickly or gracefully. I crept gingerly to the bedroom to get a close look in the mirror. Again the grotesque face, the stretched lips, mascara running. I didn't know which end to worry about most. The thing was a g-string made of chain. I turned my back and looked over my shoulder. The waist band joined a seamless ring in the center of my lower back. The crotch piece was joined to the same ring. The chain was tight in my rear cleft: I could feel it against my ... orifice. [He's really strict about this. Asshole and anus are right out. He makes me change this kind of stuff every time]. By pulling down on the waistband, I could loosen the chain enough to push it aside for ... bodily functions ... but not nearly enough to get the device out. Pissing could be messy. The chain itself is unassailable without the right tools. And of course ... they're locked in the garage ... do I have to explain? My jaw was beginning to ache again, so I went out to look for J. He was coming in the side door after putting away the tools and said, as though everything was completely normal, "Put on your shoes and clear away the lunch dishes. |