My hangover hurt too much if I did something rash like thinking. It was either Grace’s house, or Friday night at the Union with the team. It was M.... Bastard Rock meets Mr. Bastard Hard-Place. I could be out drinking with the likes of Keith, my nemesis, or staying in with Grace, the freak-show.I did not want to sound defeated, I tried to sound upbeat, “Okay, Friday night, Monday morning. Where do you live?”“Morton Street, number sixteen.”“Okay.”“Erm, you better bring some clothes and your. . Master, I obey your every word! Just tell me what you want me to do to for the evil deed I have done...M: Oh really?Then you _have_ followed my directions. You await me, kneeling on the bed, your lovely ass poking up in invitation as your back slopes your head to the pillow. You wear nothing but the softest, silkiest, skimpiest panties you own.You try not to laugh at the sight of me walking into the room wearing nothing but about thirty feet of medical tape wrapped around my torso.I go and. More

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