The floor, ceiling and all four walls were covered in white subway tile. A spotlight shined from one corner and in the center of the ceiling was a versatile shower head with a hose and nozzle for hand washing private body parts. There was a drain in the floor underneath a bench type contraption against which she’d be bound.
“This is for f*****g my pretty ass,” she wondered aloud.
“Gotta clean you out first.”
“No, you don’t have to clean me out,” she blanched.
“But I will.”
Of course, he will. He’ll do anything he damn well pleases. He’d said it enough times to have the message emblazoned across her forehead.
The strange structure in the center of the room was fitted with at least a dozen straps that secured her body upended over its top padded bar. Her knees, which fitted into matchi
