I cuffed her wrists to her ankles. She was sitting in the dirt on her ass, with the clamped cock. In the story there was 2 large concrete walls with a...extension ladder on top of them like a bridge 10 ‘ in the air. I deviated from this just cause there wasn’t time, instead I used my hay bales and the ladder. A long length of course rope thrown over the ladder to the ground. I un cuffed her wrists from feet and tied the rope to her wrists, collar and around her chest under her armpits. I tied. I wasted no time in coming directly to the point in hand. "I am sorry, Sir Bristow, I must insist that you rein in the activities of your personal assistant." Insist, Sir? Insist? I am not sure I appreciate such language. Ms Mbute is a valued employee of the Institute. She has done nothing of which the Institute would disapprove, I am sure."It was clear that his opinion of his assistant was completely clouded by her undoubted physical allure. "Sir Bristow, Miss Mbute's actions are in utter. Did you know that even after all this time I’m still an undischarged bankrupt? Still shunned by the music industry, although I’ve written over 200 unpublished songs? I still play, of course, it is in my blood, but just bass guitar for a local dance band in pubs and village halls, accompanying my lovely wife Becky’s fairly average but spirited vocals.Becky didn’t know why I baulked every time at her insistence in singing “your” song, huh! Your bloody song! For many years I couldn’t tell her the. .
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