Bunny Hop © 2003

“Come toward my voice.”

Behind the leather blindfold, Bunny’s eyes shifted, seeing only blackness.She turned—no trivial task atop 6″ heels, her ankles, knees and thighs bound tight, and her arms lashed behind, useless for balance.

Hop.Jingle.The bells dangling from her nipple clamps rang gaily.

“Umnphs!” she gasped.A flood of pleasure engulfed her, stopping her progress.She’d always thought chastity belts were supposed to keep things OUT!

“Not much farther,” came Paul’s voice.

Hop.Jangle.She panted around the ball strapped in her mouth.

Hop.

“One more.”

Hop.Shudder.

Voices murmuring!?

“Gentlemen, here she is now.”

* * * * *

Body Politic © 2003

Senator Granger tore the newspaper viciously, his face purple with rage. “That sonuvabitch! Lies.Fuckin’ lies!”

His aide stood motionless.

“Cut ’em off, Jake!”

“Senator?”

“Cut the bastard’s balls off and send ’em to his goddamn grandmother!”

“Um, yes, Senator.”

Between Granger’s outspread legs, a woman knelt, her head bobbing, tongue slurping.

“Sir, about tomorrow’s speech…”

“It’s fine.Fine.Maybe add a little more about families, kids, shit like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Granger took a calming breath. “Mmm.Suh-weet, baby.When’s the missus due back, Jake?”

“Another hour.”

“Good! Now handle that motherfuckin’ editor.I’m gonna finish this civics lesson.”

* * * * *

Cheerleader in Training © 2002

The ropes had no slack.They held Gwen’s arms high and wide.Her sweater, two sizes too small, didn’t quite conceal the nipple clamps beneath.Overhead, she clutched pom-poms of black and blue, Bond U’s colors.

Another cord, anchored around her waist, threaded from behind, past her skimpy skirt, through her moist slit, up to a pulley, then down to her right ankle, held aloft head-high.Her left foot, on tiptoe, grazed the gym floor. Coach Hilda stroked Gwen’s rope-cleft cunt.The aspirant shuddered, twitched, chewed her leather mouth-plug.

“Go team!” she mewed.

Hilda grinned. “Congratulations. You made the squad.”