She had vague, ghostly memories of other people in her life, but they didn’t seem important. They couldn’t make her feel like this. They must not ...ave been important, if she had gone seeking the Controller in the first place. Back when she only wanted to be a little bit of a slave, a play slave, a pretend slave. She hated the woman she had been for only wanting to pretend. Her Controller’s voice said, ‘Good Samaritan,’ and the call ended. But she knew what she had to do. It was a trigger, and. “Over a chair,” she whispered into my ear after we finally broke our lascivious kiss. With that she lead me over to a padded armchair, placed a large coffee table book in back of it, put a towel over the book (I knew what that was for), and stood on the towel. On the towel and book her waist was almost exactly even with the top of the padded back of the chair. She leaned over it, and held onto the arms, cooing when she got fully into the proper position. I didn’t need any instruction. I. More

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