Clothespins on her nipples and the sides of Monica’s petite breasts, ropes digging into her armpits, wrists, waist, and tender pussy, her ass and clit rubbed more raw with each of her struggles.
It was the kind of first date every eighteen-year-old girl dreams of, right down to not knowing his name and only being allowed to call him Mister or Sir.
When he stepped out of the room for a few minutes, only to return with her best friend on a leash, dressed in nothing more than a collar, and crawling on the floor after him, she knew it was true love.
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