My second morning in the penthouse, I was surprised to awaken with my hands unbound. Id fallen asleep with them still tied, the ropes burning into my wrists as severely as the feeling of captivity was burned into my mind. A silent messenger, the unused rope lay beside me. When had he released me? During the night, or perhaps not until morning? And what of the rope? Was it there to remind me of my submission? His dominance? For him to use again? As I rubbed the small indentations still marking my wrists, I pondered the feelings that rushed back into my body. What was happening to me?
As I recalled the events of the previous night, it was difficult to bring them into focus; so much was wrapped up in raw sensations. It did occur to me that Id been drugged, but I felt no effects of drugs. I
