. no walking for you.Hmm... and with those hands bound no crawling either... I do hope youfigure something out or I might have to leave you here."And ...ith that she starts to walk towards her door... I plant my boundhands before me and shuffle my legs behind, ruining my stockings in theprocess. It's not fast enough and she's tugging at my leash again. Irise up onto my feet, and though it's awkward in my shoes, try to bunnyhop after her. It's an utterly humiliating form of travel, and my dresshas. She had screamed so much, her voice was gone. She was just sobbing quietly as Carl was unshackling her and leading her to the punishment horse, where he bid her lay down on her back. He then secured her legs to the beams next to her head, so that she ended up spread most uncomfortably. Mr. Barton stood next to her. “I suggest that each member of the audience administer ten lashes of the whip to Ibby’s vagina. Unless Ibby would rather spin the wheel?”Ibby did a quick calculation. There were. Even so, he thought he'd stood a chance at a part as an orphan in therevival of 'Oliver!' until the casting director said he looked too old.And now it looked like he would grow old in his job as prop manager forthe State Theater.A chill set over him and he turned up the small space heater that was theonly barrier between him and the cold brick walls of the prop room. Andwhen he twisted the knob he turned the space heater towards a nearbyshelf where it began to heat up an old bottle until, "POP". "Chad was still busy with the laundry, but he was watching the timecarefully. It was coming up on his deadline for leaking. Fortunately,he knew he was close - very close! The two women were in the kitchen butthey were speaking so softly he couldn't hear them, other than somegiggling of which there was more than a bit.He suddenly felt himself peeing again, a bit more than usual. And a fewseconds later... "I'm leaking!" he called out excitedly. He had made itonce again! He felt nothing but.