He is never rough unless he knows I need it, nor crude. He would never hurt me, and I trust him completely. I am his for whatever purpose he needs, b...cause he is the only man who has ever truly understood the desire, the craving, the hunger in me that's never truly satisfied.He keeps me in a bra and pantyhose most of the time, barefoot for the most part, but when I'm restrained and standing I must be wearing high heels. My hands are always bound. Always. If I need assistance, I must call. The late arrivals were becoming more and more common with her sometimes sneaking home in the wee hours of the morning. She was the personal assistant to a corporate bigwig at a one of the big banks and he had no doubt that the two of them were having an affair. He unlocked the door and dropped his briefcase on the desk in his study as he did every night when he got home from work then he headed into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. Leaning against the kitchen counter he sipped his wine. He is 5'10, athletic build just above average size cock, and completely hairless from the neck down as requested by her. She is Asian 5'3 slim but not skinny, she had soft curves a clear defined hour glass shape, possibly the finest ass he had ever seen, and she is something quite beyond his wildest dreams, to be with her now even if a thousand miles away. Her breast are perfect; round and supple with fairly meaty nipples that she was a bit embarrassed by, but he loved them. They would get. Two easy chairs, matching the sofa. A small TV set, with video attached. A dining table, old but polished, with three non-matching dining chairs. Tiny ornaments, cats and dragons mainly, distributed on just about every flat surface. A gas fire, with a soft white rug laid in front of it. A bookcase, full of well-used paperbacks, amongst which Stephen King was well represented, as was Patricia Cornwell.He heard Martine singing softly to herself and tried to identify the tune, but couldn't. It.