Eventually, he gently laid me on my back, unlocked my legs, and brought us to a peak.Eventually, he gently laid me on my back, unlocked my legs, and brought us to a peak. We lay like that for a while before I stirred. "These handcuffs are rather uncomfortable to lie on, you know; could you possibly chain me in a different position?" Instantly, he jumped up and rolled me over. But rather than unlock me right away, he got out a few cable ties, and used them to bind my hands. Only when they were secure did he unlock the handcuffs. I groaned. Arms aren't that much better when you're laying on your back. And I expected to be laying on my back a lot that weekend; he seemed to have one thing in mind. In that I was both right and wrong -- he varied positions a lot, but about only time my hands weren't bound behind me was when he tied me under that stupid car. And his body still didn't feel like Roger's. We lay there for a while like that, though he got up briefly to put on some more music. It was the radio this time, which pro- vided less evidence. We snuggled together; he read, and I thought. Was this Roger? Should I stop the charade, one way or another, and find out? I was certain my captor would honor a request to release me; I was less certain that he'd do it in a way that would let me learn his identity. Did I care? Should I care? Physically, I had no complaints; the sex was wonderful, and everything was according to my rules. And whoever that was next to me, Roger had obviously planned this, and presumably was deriving pleasure from it. Did it matter that it was indirect? If you make love in a forest and no one hears it, do you have an orgasm? The analogy doesn't hold up, but you know what I mean. |