I don't know to this day if she knew I was there or not. I think she knew but never mentioned it.Here I am forty-three years old, married with a grown...up family. I'm considered a good husband and father, dependable and employed at the same job for over twenty years. Just a regular guy, like most of your neighbors. I mow the lawn or shovel the snow, I even help out the little lady with the housekeeping. On the outside I'm just like everybody else. But inside I guess I might be considered a. You open your eyes but everything is stilldark. ?What the hell?? you wonder since you remember leaving a light on beforeyou went to sleep. But that?s not what?s bothering you. You feel something on yourface. A mask! You panic and try to get it off with your hands but in vain. Your hands can?t move. They?reboth stretched upwards and tied to the bed post. So are your legs. What?s going on? You?reway beyond panic and now you?re entering levels of fear you never imagined thatexisted. You scream but. Instead, I watched her and listened to her beautiful voice. Could I learn anything about her?The afternoon wore on and I was startled when another young woman asked if I needed a refill. Hell, I wasn’t a coffee drinker; I was only there to watch and try to learn more about my mysterious, beautiful young woman.“No, no thank you.” I gave her a quick smile and glanced at her name tag. ”I’m fine, Alice.”Damn, I’d been so shocked earlier when the object of my desire had served me, I hadn’t checked. The shoes I loved less. The heels were at least an inch higher than I was comfy with. But not high enough to make a fuss about it. Ann wanted me to wear them and so I would wear them. Her eyes burnt holes in my ass as I staggered to the kitchen, still wobbly on the heels. Would have to practice every minute I could if I didn't want to look like a duck. Which, of course, wouldn't do. I wanted her to be proud of me even more than I wanted to be proud of me. But, are slaves supposed to proud of.