I continued to try and yell, but as soon as she held her hand over my tit, I silenced myself. “Good girl,” she purred. “You’re so good! Now sm...le for the camera!” She started to take pictures of my helpless, bound body, and there was nothing I could do about it. She praised me constantly, commenting in detail on my most private areas. She took a lot of close-ups of my cunt, and plenty of my face. She made me raise my knees as high as I could and took more pictures down there. She made me hold. Coming to the story, we both was in whtsapp group created by our common friend and used to share common jokes and pictures… once we had general talk in group about what you do and all but others group members said do such personal chat individually… so we started to chat privately… to tell about her, her name is amruta and she is into her mid thirties married but her husband is no more, having nice figure, long hairs and juicy lips…Coming back to story, then we started to chat personally almost. Sitting on the couch, touching and playing with each other, we watched the action on the screen. About 20 minutes into the flick I started getting hard again so I took her hand and started back to her bedroom. When we got on the bed Ashley opened her nightstand drawer again and told me to help myself. I looked in and saw an interesting selection of toys. I took her vibrator back out. I also saw and took out four short Velcro straps with lengths of rope attached to them. Placing her wrists. Come on.’ * Walking into the back of the arch, stepping over the discarded and dirty refuse that littered the area, Kelly squinted as she passed from the light to the shadowed and dingy depth of the old Victorian arch that formed part of the railway line running eventually over the bridge across the River Thames. The smell was sour, stale sweat mingled with the sweet pungent smell of smoked spliffs. Cardboard covered the floor at the back of the arch along with a discarded shopping trolley.