Chapter Eleven
A Disciplined Dinner
John
Christine was indeed a picture.
She sat erectly, across the table from me, her body held by her corset and the chain from under the table pulling her compressed waist close to its edge. Above the neck of her sheer black nylon blouse, the collar gleamed, fully visible, while on her chest, her securely contained and captured breasts heaved tremulously with every breath she drew. The tight straps from the upper apexes of the cups cut deeply into her delicate shoulders, anchoring them firmly to her chest and I watched her hands flutter in agitation against their chains each time the shockers became active. They clattered and clinked noisily and her legs kicked spasmodically, but all in all she seemed to be accommodating herself to her situation quit
