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The other part, which became more vocal with time, told her how hot it made her to be forced, truly under someone else's control, even if it was this total bitch. She found that precious little jewel, and Mandy gasped. It only served to remind her how much attention her own needed, throbbing away in its prison.Mandy leaned over the belt, trying to slip a finger inside. With her other hand she grabbed the lock, which got Lily's heart pounding even more. ?My, I don't think you'd even be able to get a finger in here. Imagine your clit, all locked up, never to get any relief!? She was panting steadily now. Lily redoubled her efforts. The sooner she finished, the safer she'd be.?Susan is always laughing about how much you play with yourself. I think she'd be happy, knowing you couldn't do that anymore. Oh, but you would try, wouldn't you?? Her breathing picked up. Lily focused solely on her clit. ?Your little fun button...you'd never get to touch it...oh yes! And I'd come. ”“I don’t need anything fancy. A shirt and a pair of pants is enough.”Mom’s voice actually rumbled, “Think again, James.”“So, Mom, when are we going?” He then turned his head and stared at Amanda who was sitting there laughing. “Am I amusing you?”“Absolutely, but it’s what you do,” she replied.Mom stood and said, “It’s late. Everyone get ready for bed.”James went to school with a smile on his face. Not even the ribbing he got from the jocks could sour his mood.He went to work in the same happy mood and found it became infectious. He treated the customers jovially and answered all their inane questions without snark or sarcasm and even received a nice compliment or two in response.The biggest improvement at work was with the techs; all the time, effort and energy put into the job was starting to pay off and they were taking him seriously now. He had done everything they’d asked and jumped through all the hoops. Even Pat was working hard, although he bitched about it after work.Work.
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A shaking hand fumbles with the key, a shaking head tries to blow the hurricane out of my coordination centre, a shaking fist finally gives up and hammers on the thin doorframe. Movement, thumping sounds and a lock that rattles. She is there, her face now not a seductive wink, but a worried fluster, her frame no less wonderful, standing in the doorway with a speech halfway up her throat when she stops. The city, the cardboard tourists, the old bricks and new inhabitants, all fade away into nothingness. She is my key, I know that now, my guide back to a safe foothold. The look on her face… A frown? A smile? Somewhere in between? She wears every nuance of her heart on the outside. A joyful loving laughter back on the balcony, and endless care and concern in the doorway. Yes, that fragment fits the frame. That is why I love her. ‘Oh puppy,’ she sings in a minor key of compassion. No, not sings, but every syllable hits a clear note that rings true with my own frequencies. ‘Did it happen.

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