When sipped in small amounts it is relaxing drink, but when gulped in celebration it is paralyzing at best and at worst deadly. Death was not the plan... but suffering was the condition Richard had longed for his dear brother to experience. The opiates gave Richard plenty of time to wall him in and time for the mortar to set. In his eyes his brother had committed the ultimate sin and Richard was willing to burn in hell as long as he could watch Reinhardt burn beside him. Richard lights his pipe. ..right", he says, eyeing the money tucked into the cleavage of her corset, at the front. "So...$2000", John says, circling his finger around the top of the glass. "I assume your boss told you?", his eyes not meeting hers now. "Yes, he did, but why would you do that John?", Amber is confused, looking at him. "Because I miss you, and I obviously need to pay to get your attention these days...", he says condescendingly. "Go Fuck Yourself John", she says as she goes to storm away and Glen eyes. Sometimes in an idle moment Donna wondered what the building's original purpose had been. There had to be some reason for there to be heavy-duty electrical lift installed on runners along the steel beams of the ceiling. But that wasn't important. What was inportant was that she had recognized it as being perfect for playing her favorite fantasy.Donna was an autoerotic asphyxiation junkie. She had experimented with different methods of cutting off her air supply while she masturbated. One method. Pressing it forward till it hit home base. She screamed and her knees collapsed. Bracing his knee against the wall he supported her weight on it. He continued his tortures. She screamed and thrashed her hips. Fisting her hands still held tight by his. She cried and screamed. Begging and pleading for release. “Please Sir, let me cum! Please, please, please. I’m so close. Pleassse!” Shudders shook her body, sweat poured. Her liquids covering his knee, still she didn’t cum. She knew better. “You.