"Now, tell me you'll be good."She groveled at his feet. "I promise, Master. I'll be good."Thomas looked down at her sternly. "I believe you. But I'm s...ill keeping the butt plug in."She sobbed, but accepted his judgment.Betty's Diner was the last of a dying breed, a true fifties diner. It was made in the 1950's by a company that built diners with all the booths, appliances, and counter installed. They'd put them on a flatbed truck and delivered them to locations around the country. There used to. When she replied ‘Yes,’ he wrote back that he wanted to see and within seconds the intercom cracked with his voice requesting that she come in for dictation. ‘Dick-tation is more like it!’ Carol thought and laughed to herself. Picking up her steno pad and pen, she thought ‘Here we go!’ as she headed for her bosses closed office door. She knocked before entering and saw that he was on the phone. He smiled at her, waving her in while his gaze traveled from her face to her pelvis area. Carol. When she tried to relieve her genitalia of the torment by entailing fresh pain in her feet and closing her legs, the inner sides of her thighs came in contact with the horrible flanks of the beam. Hit by the pure cruelty of her position, she sobbed loudly. Cold sweat started wetting her skin again as her arms were bound behind her back, wrists to elbows."This is an advanced version of the good old Torture Horse",Grand Mistress Gillian told both Her slavegirls."I call it `The Crossing of the. "Yeah, that's what Nurse Nystrom says." So if you don't have enough sex, you have a wet dream? " Yeah. It happened yesterday in Spanish class," I admitted."Oh my, even during the day? Well, look, Adam, if there's anything I can do to help, be sure and let me know. OK?" Like what?" I asked with some trepidation. I mean, there I was, pretty well laid out for her. From time to time she was glancing at my dick. I was trying not to look at her breasts but I wasn't always succeeding."Well, I'll wash.