Rosa had to stretch to reach the broken branch over which I secured the set of plastic handcuffs I'd had for years. I frowned as I checked the positio... she was in, it didn't seem comfortable, and the branch was just a little too high for her to reach without struggling."We're going to have to move you," I said giving her ass cheek a squeeze.She shook her head negatively. "Let me try something," she replied and then backed up to the tree, her heels rising onto a protruding root. It was only made. I wondered if I would ever stand again.I was slowly filled with a conviction that she could read my thoughts. In my pain and growing exhaustion it seemed any thoughts of anger or rebellion could be sensed by her and would result in another terrible beating. My sense of identity became detached. My world focused on her and her club. That if my becoming her dog would lessen the pain started seeming a very logical choice.After several days of torture, when my behavior had gotten to a point were. More

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