Chapter Twelve
I open the door to my room and I surprise myself with the sight of the naked, plugged and clamped Ming. I have forgotten but quickly recall my relatively intemperate actions before leaving for dinner. As commanded, the minx has not moved her boyish torso one-inch.
She turns and looks at me through tear filled eyes. The anguish of the weighted clamps has slowly built and her look beseeches me for relief.
The hour is late and the house is large and silent. The few occupants are busy with various carnal delights. There is no one to hear, see, record, relate, or speak of anything that I do. I surrender to my urges.
I slip out of my clothes and into a large fluffy bathrobe supplied by my hostess. Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, or just allowing my curiosity to prevail, I
