Slowly he worked his way from toe to upper thigh before switching to my other thigh and slowly working his way back down. The red latex was glimmering...in the dimly lit room, wet with his saliva.Pointing across the room to a stereo I said, "I want you to crawl on your hands and knees and go turn on some music."Like the obedient slave he was becoming, he crawled on all fours, shaking his ass all the way over to the radio. When he got there he extended forward and stuck his ass out in the air. Now normally , as I’m sure you know, for any half decent congregation of amateur pitchfork & torch wielding locals, the sight of acute suffering would be testament to success on their part, target(s) in question so sufficiently broken that to continue forward with all guns blazing would strain if not break the rules of propriety & good taste, not so with our hearty band of hoi polloi. Such was there aesthetic outrage that the sight of fresh tears & trembling chins did little to slow the. More

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