She was just finishing her ironing when she remembered Gary had asked her to begin her journal. In the cold light of day, a blank page of Word fel... like a bottomless pit. At least once she got started, it wasn’t too bad. She Googled ‘BDSM’ and ‘journal’ and found a few good examples. It didn’t take too long to note what had happened over the previous twenty-four hours, but it took much longer to write out how she felt about it all. She hoped he’d be pleased with her efforts. By that. It was the longest 15 minutes of my life. I went back into her room and clapped loudly to check for a response. Nothing. Then I whistled, called her name several times, tickled her feet and even pinched the inside of her thigh. There was nothing. She just slept away. I reached down and tugged off her tight terry-cloth shorts. My heart began to pound. There was now just a slightly damp bikini bottom between me and T’s ass. I went into the bathroom, started a warm bath, lifted the toilet. More

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