I wandered
through the scenes, taking only a quick note of each. The familiar mixed with
the extreme, giving anyone unaccustomed to the lifestyle a sampling of where
things began and where they could go.
The man
strapped down to the pommel horse cried out as a cane connected with his
thighs. His ass cheeks already glowed red. His black hair glistened as sweat
trickled through. What caught my eye, however, was the red rope securing his
wrists behind his back. It was a fine blend of silk and elastic, perfect for
tightening as he strained without ever cutting into his skin. His wrists would
be unblemished. Sadly, his backside could not claim the same.
