She tries to muffle her cry. Hot tears are soaking through her blindfold, darkening the soft fabric. My husband kneels and takes one her her nipples i... one hand and pinches. I wince in sympathy. My finger-tips are white where they grip the arms of the chair. I'm not sure how much more of this I can stand, I ask myself if I should intervene-- what would happen if I did-- I imagine my husband turning on me, making me into another painslut, both of us bound and bare and kneeling as he takes it in. “Mind if I join you for dinner?” “Ho, ho, ho, little girl,” I bellowed as I reached for her arm. “What would you like for Christmas?” I pulled her onto my lap. Rachel giggled and climbed off. “You’d better eat while you can, Santa.” She hopped off my lap. I went with Rachel to the small lounge area where she produced a sandwich for each of us and the promised Coke. We chit-chatted as we ate. She also let me know that the regular helpers would not be back. She gave them the rest of the evening. More

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