A one off, not part of any of my series'.
Just an idea I had.
Please let me know what you think in the comments.
Simone was nearly ready.
The house was a shambles but she was nearly ready. Spare parts, wiring and chunks of robotics equipment covered every available surface in her kitchen. Upon her living room coffee table was mounted a wide plywood board converting it into a makeshift woodworking bench. Sawdust and dusty tools lay all around. She would clean up later. For now, she was too excited. Her two huge St Bernard’s ‘George’ and ‘Evander’ followed her around the house as she scampered up and down the stairs in her loose overalls transferring armfuls of equipment to the bedroom. They sensed something was up and that apparently it stood to be something quite fun. Both tails wagged busily.
She stopped, puffed a few strands of her unruly bob of blonde hair off her dusty sweaty face and petted her beloved friends around their jowly faces.
‘Who’s a good boy? You’s a good boy, yessh… aww there’s the spot… Aww, yessh you too George…’ she scratched one behind the ear as the other exuberantly bounded up and down behind her, gently bumping its not inconsiderable mass into her side to provoke cuddles. After showering both with attention she hopped back to her feet, grabbed the last of the lengths of rope she would need, ran back up to her bedroom and closed the door to the bemusement of her two dogs.
‘You guys just stay there for a little while. You’ll like it, I promise. It’ll be worth it!’
One dog cocked his head to one side and whined little confused whine at her from the bottom of the stairs. She closed the door and set to work assembling her apparatus.
‘Ok Simone… This is it! Trial run number one!’
She secured the network of steel eyelets screwed into the coving around the ceiling, checking that the rope slid smoothly through them with no snags. The bed was pulled out into the middle of the large room, the foot of the bed facing directly at the door. Next to the bed, her laptop sat on a dining chair from downstairs. Upon the foot of the bed, she had mounted one of her proudest works; a homemade set of wooden ankle stocks with a quadruple bolt fastening mechanism and thick foam padding for her little ankles. She looked at the stocks and grinned excitedly.
A large bundle of four heavy concrete breeze blocks roped together was perched at a deliberately precarious angle on her dressing table stool just behind the door, set to fall to the floor at the slightest agitation. The rope attached to it led up into the network of eyelets and around the system of ropes and repurposed climbing pulleys. Bolted to the dressing table next to the ascending rope was a small robot arm upon which was mounted a small circular saw blade. As fun as this was likely to be, she would still need an exit strategy. Eventually.
Bolted to another old table behind the head of the bed was another simple robot with a motor and a spool. The rope led down through eyelets crudely screwed into the wall behind the bed, looped once around the spool and then led onto the bed where it was tied to a pair of wrist cuffs from a bondage set.
The cuffs were blue. She had sat in a café across the road from the sex store for a long while, too shy to go in, until finally she had marched in, avoided eye contact with everyone and then become stricken with indecision as she reached the restraints. Pink had seemed silly, red too suggestive and black was far too ‘S&M’ for her tastes. So at length she had selected the only blue pair, blushed as she hurriedly paid her money to the inconveniently dreamy tall dark and handsome sales assistant, and raced back out to the café to relive herself as the five coffees she’d consumed in preparation had all suddenly made their presence felt. It hadn’t been her finest moment but it was behind her now. Her cuffs were blue.
She hopped onto the bed where three additional vital pieces of equipment awaited her. These were a) a length of string attached to a rubber door wedge, b) a simple plastic litter picker modified to wear a plaster of Paris filled yellow rubber glove with one finger extended as a simple poking device, and c) a 1 litre tub of natural chunky peanut butter and a spoon to apply it. It was the stickiest brand she’d found and while very tasty, was genuinely quite difficult to eat in large quantities. This property made it long-lasting which would be key for her plan. Her pulse was racing in excitement and she grinned and told herself to calm down.
She opened the door a crack and wedged it in place with the door wedge. Her dogs were outside the door sniffing impatiently to be let in and join in whatever private fun she was having.
‘Good boys, just wait there! Not long now!’ she shouted to them as she clambered back onto the bed.
She leaned over to her laptop and pulled up her robotics software. She paused and deliberated a little over setting timer, settling eventually and with some trepidation, on ten minutes. Ten minutes in the first instance. It might well seem like aeons once it got started. She had plenty more rope anyways. She pushed the laptop back away from the bed a couple of feet, out of easy reach, and left it requiring only one strike of the enter key to begin running the programme.
Then she turned her attention to her feet. She yanked off her little size five Vans sneakers and threw them across the room not caring where they landed. She failed to notice that one had struck the leg of her dressing table and knocked the circular saw robot just a couple of millimetres to the left. She hurried on, stripping off her stripy socks to reveal her beautiful little pale feet to the cool air, sweaty from charging around the house. Her toenails were painted glittery blue to match the cuffs. She wiggled her toes and bit her lip as she removed the lid of the peanut butter. With a wide grin, she slathered generous amounts of peanut butter all over her bare feet, silently and with held breath as if she were doing something very naughty and might be caught if she made a sound.
Once every square millimetre of her feet was covered right up to the ankles in sticky coarse grain peanut butter, she licked her spoon and fingers and nestled her ankles into the outer notches of her stocks, about eighteen inches apart. She closed the top down over her ankles and bolted it in in place. The little chunks of gooey peanut butter felt strange and already a little tickly between her toes. She put on her wrist cuffs, struggling a little to get the second on since she was encumbered by the first. She reached over to the laptop with the poking finger stick and hit ‘enter’. The robot behind her whirred into life and spooled up the slack in the rope between it and the cuffs. Simone felt a gentle tug on the wrist cuffs as the robot clipped the spool in place. The timer began to count down from ten minutes.
She closed her eyes, concentrated on slowing her breathing and listened to the inquisitive sniffling from the cracked doorway. Then she carefully took the end of the string and tugged the door wedge clear of the door. The two large dogs bustled forwards and shoved the door open. The door swung wide, knocked the breeze blocks to the floor and pulled the spooled rope tight. Simone just caught a glimpse of her two best buddies drooling and lolloping towards her peanut buttered feet as the rope was pulled tight. The spool detached and clanked up into the first eyelet and her wrists were pulled out tight to the head of the bed dragging her flat on her back. She squeaked in panic and excitement and dropped her poking stick to clatter to the floor.
Then it began. There was no warming up, no easing into it, no gradual acclimatisation on offer here. George and Evander selected a little wiggling foot each with business-like efficiency and set about relieving it of its tasty coating of peanut butter by means of methodical slobbery licking. Simone wasn’t ready. She knew her feet were ticklish but until she was powerless and tied up in her own devilish apparatus, she hadn’t really understood how intense the tickling would be. Every muscle in her petite little body tensed all at once and she squealed a long squeal, higher pitched than she knew she was capable of.
‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!’
Only once this long involuntary squeal had run its course could she even descend into fits of manic giggles.
‘EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEEEEEE!!’
She gasped in little inadequate lungfuls of air in between peals of shrill giggling as the grateful dogs licked industriously at her ticklish arches. Her feet wiggled, she tried pushing at their noses with her toes but it was no more effective than throwing flower petals at an oncoming steamroller. All it achieved was to attract licks up to the toes themselves, which proved even more ticklish than the arches.
‘EEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE…’ She gasped in air… ‘EEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEE…”
The dogs had been making acceptable progress with her arches where successive tongue lapping could gradually start to clear the sticky peanut butter and reveal the soft pale skin beneath. However the toes proved more difficult since the peanut butter was worked right down in between them and there always seemed to be more there to lick, not least because her toes tended to clench up defensively in a vain attempt to protect themselves from the tongue attack and in so doing, retained the peanut butter.
Simone craned her head up and could see nothing other than two happily wagging tails. She knew that as much as her dogs were young and exuberant, they were also good natured and obedient. It was possible that she could make them stop if she could just imbue her voice with the authoritarian tone they responded to.
‘EEEEHEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEHEHEE!!’ she managed. Nope. ‘STOOOOHOHOHEHEHEEHEEE… STOOOHOHOHOOO…’ *gasp* ‘MPHHAAHAHAA… MPH… STOOOHOHOOOOp STOP STOP!!’ Still no luck. Her voice was elevated to such a desperate squeaky tone that Evander and George paid it no attention. She abandoned the notion and let out a series of surprised little squeals as a nose snuffled around the curve of her left heel and then a tongue began exploring the surprisingly ticklish inside of her ankle.
In her panic, she looked over at the timer. 07:56. Just over two minutes had passed. She threw her head back and squirmed and laughed with abandon as she realised that despite the panic and the desperate need to escape the unbearable tickles on her helpless little feet, she was having the time of her life. She loved getting her feet tickled despite always pretending she didn’t out of embarrassment any time anyone did it. This time pretence was quite quite redundant.
As she alternately hyperventilated and giggled herself faint, she wondered if perhaps she could muster the self-control needed to spread her toes and allow tongue access between them to speed the cleaning process up. Part of the problem was the guessing game. Since the two animals didn’t work in tandem, their pattern was random, one licking the outer edge of her foot and up to her pinkie toe while the other tormented her big toe or her heel. If they at least both licked the same spot, maybe she could cope better and catch her breath. She tried to exercise motor control over her madly wiggling feet but they disobeyed her brain and continued their futile wiggling. She tried again. This time she achieved an element of stuttering faltering success but discovered the flaw in her plan when the spots between her toes were revealed to be the most ticklish spots on her whole body at that point in time. She bucked, scrunched her toes again and yanked on the cuffs. The breeze block assembly lifted a few millimetres clear of the floor and then crunched down again. Well the breeze block assembly had worked perfectly, as had spool-bot. She congratulated herself.
The tickling was still in full swing as the timer reached zero and she craned her head up to watch saw-bot whirr into action and come to her rescue. The robot arm swung slowly to the right as the blade picked up speed. It cut into the rope, halfway… and then retracted back to start position! Simone’s eyes widened in alarm as the rope remained intact. She yanked on the cuffs again as hard as she could but weakened and gassed out from the all the squirming, the breeze block assembly didn’t budge at all.
Most of the peanut butter was cleaned off the smooth areas of her soles by now and George and Evander were now concerning themselves chiefly with her ankles and the tops of her feet where the peanut butter had squished out from in between her toes as she clenched them. She tried to restrict their access to the tops of her toes by flattening them against the stocks but this laid bare the vulnerable undersides again.
‘EEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE!! NOOOHOHOHOONOONOO… STOOHOHOOPP!! EEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!’ She squeaked commands uselessly again and was ignored. She considered yelling downstairs for Alexa to dial her neighbour who kept a spare key, but she didn’t want to be discovered locked in her own tickle torture device and besides there was little chance she would be heard and even less that she would be understood. Eventually the peanut butter would run out right? Surely… Part of her hoped it wouldn’t.
She lay there laughing like a fool, her ticklish feet the thoroughly slobbered lick-toys of two hungry St Bernard’s for another full fifteen minutes before either dog lost any interest in her now comparatively clean feet and wandered off for a break. As the intensity died down, she found she was able to catch her breath, summon her strength and yank repeatedly on the cuffs to try to sever the remaining rope.
‘Ohmagod… Ohmagod… Okay… okay…’
Slowly, strand by strand, and with intermittent continued foot licks from George and Evander which dissolved her into giggles every time, she finally broke the rope and sat upright. Her abdominal muscles were utterly spent from laughing and even sitting up was a struggle. At length she removed the cuffs, unbolted the stocks and rescued her poor feet.
George and Evander came around the side of the bed, their peanut buttered faces gazing up at her expectantly and wondering what fun might be next. She wrapped her arms around them and cuddled them both.
‘Ooooohmagod… Good boys… such good boys! Did you like your treat? What’s that? A perfect system you say? Why thank you Evander! What’s that George? Just need to re-adjust saw-bot? Agreed Evander, good analysis. Awwww, yessh… good boy…’
She slipped her socks back over her wet feet and hopped off the bed. She re-assembled the device with a fresh length of rope, and hefted the breeze blocks back up onto the stool. She repositioned the saw-bot. She ushered the boys back outside the door and re-wedged it. She stripped off her socks again, applied a fresh coating of peanut butter to her feet, locked them back in the stocks, and set the timer for thirty minutes. She slipped the wrist cuffs back on, hit ‘enter’ with her poking stick and yanked out the door wedge.
The dogs lolloped back in excitedly as she was pulled back flat onto the bed.
Simone still wasn’t ready.
Just an idea I had.
Please let me know what you think in the comments.
Simone was nearly ready.
The house was a shambles but she was nearly ready. Spare parts, wiring and chunks of robotics equipment covered every available surface in her kitchen. Upon her living room coffee table was mounted a wide plywood board converting it into a makeshift woodworking bench. Sawdust and dusty tools lay all around. She would clean up later. For now, she was too excited. Her two huge St Bernard’s ‘George’ and ‘Evander’ followed her around the house as she scampered up and down the stairs in her loose overalls transferring armfuls of equipment to the bedroom. They sensed something was up and that apparently it stood to be something quite fun. Both tails wagged busily.
She stopped, puffed a few strands of her unruly bob of blonde hair off her dusty sweaty face and petted her beloved friends around their jowly faces.
‘Who’s a good boy? You’s a good boy, yessh… aww there’s the spot… Aww, yessh you too George…’ she scratched one behind the ear as the other exuberantly bounded up and down behind her, gently bumping its not inconsiderable mass into her side to provoke cuddles. After showering both with attention she hopped back to her feet, grabbed the last of the lengths of rope she would need, ran back up to her bedroom and closed the door to the bemusement of her two dogs.
‘You guys just stay there for a little while. You’ll like it, I promise. It’ll be worth it!’
One dog cocked his head to one side and whined little confused whine at her from the bottom of the stairs. She closed the door and set to work assembling her apparatus.
‘Ok Simone… This is it! Trial run number one!’
She secured the network of steel eyelets screwed into the coving around the ceiling, checking that the rope slid smoothly through them with no snags. The bed was pulled out into the middle of the large room, the foot of the bed facing directly at the door. Next to the bed, her laptop sat on a dining chair from downstairs. Upon the foot of the bed, she had mounted one of her proudest works; a homemade set of wooden ankle stocks with a quadruple bolt fastening mechanism and thick foam padding for her little ankles. She looked at the stocks and grinned excitedly.
A large bundle of four heavy concrete breeze blocks roped together was perched at a deliberately precarious angle on her dressing table stool just behind the door, set to fall to the floor at the slightest agitation. The rope attached to it led up into the network of eyelets and around the system of ropes and repurposed climbing pulleys. Bolted to the dressing table next to the ascending rope was a small robot arm upon which was mounted a small circular saw blade. As fun as this was likely to be, she would still need an exit strategy. Eventually.
Bolted to another old table behind the head of the bed was another simple robot with a motor and a spool. The rope led down through eyelets crudely screwed into the wall behind the bed, looped once around the spool and then led onto the bed where it was tied to a pair of wrist cuffs from a bondage set.
The cuffs were blue. She had sat in a café across the road from the sex store for a long while, too shy to go in, until finally she had marched in, avoided eye contact with everyone and then become stricken with indecision as she reached the restraints. Pink had seemed silly, red too suggestive and black was far too ‘S&M’ for her tastes. So at length she had selected the only blue pair, blushed as she hurriedly paid her money to the inconveniently dreamy tall dark and handsome sales assistant, and raced back out to the café to relive herself as the five coffees she’d consumed in preparation had all suddenly made their presence felt. It hadn’t been her finest moment but it was behind her now. Her cuffs were blue.
She hopped onto the bed where three additional vital pieces of equipment awaited her. These were a) a length of string attached to a rubber door wedge, b) a simple plastic litter picker modified to wear a plaster of Paris filled yellow rubber glove with one finger extended as a simple poking device, and c) a 1 litre tub of natural chunky peanut butter and a spoon to apply it. It was the stickiest brand she’d found and while very tasty, was genuinely quite difficult to eat in large quantities. This property made it long-lasting which would be key for her plan. Her pulse was racing in excitement and she grinned and told herself to calm down.
She opened the door a crack and wedged it in place with the door wedge. Her dogs were outside the door sniffing impatiently to be let in and join in whatever private fun she was having.
‘Good boys, just wait there! Not long now!’ she shouted to them as she clambered back onto the bed.
She leaned over to her laptop and pulled up her robotics software. She paused and deliberated a little over setting timer, settling eventually and with some trepidation, on ten minutes. Ten minutes in the first instance. It might well seem like aeons once it got started. She had plenty more rope anyways. She pushed the laptop back away from the bed a couple of feet, out of easy reach, and left it requiring only one strike of the enter key to begin running the programme.
Then she turned her attention to her feet. She yanked off her little size five Vans sneakers and threw them across the room not caring where they landed. She failed to notice that one had struck the leg of her dressing table and knocked the circular saw robot just a couple of millimetres to the left. She hurried on, stripping off her stripy socks to reveal her beautiful little pale feet to the cool air, sweaty from charging around the house. Her toenails were painted glittery blue to match the cuffs. She wiggled her toes and bit her lip as she removed the lid of the peanut butter. With a wide grin, she slathered generous amounts of peanut butter all over her bare feet, silently and with held breath as if she were doing something very naughty and might be caught if she made a sound.
Once every square millimetre of her feet was covered right up to the ankles in sticky coarse grain peanut butter, she licked her spoon and fingers and nestled her ankles into the outer notches of her stocks, about eighteen inches apart. She closed the top down over her ankles and bolted it in in place. The little chunks of gooey peanut butter felt strange and already a little tickly between her toes. She put on her wrist cuffs, struggling a little to get the second on since she was encumbered by the first. She reached over to the laptop with the poking finger stick and hit ‘enter’. The robot behind her whirred into life and spooled up the slack in the rope between it and the cuffs. Simone felt a gentle tug on the wrist cuffs as the robot clipped the spool in place. The timer began to count down from ten minutes.
She closed her eyes, concentrated on slowing her breathing and listened to the inquisitive sniffling from the cracked doorway. Then she carefully took the end of the string and tugged the door wedge clear of the door. The two large dogs bustled forwards and shoved the door open. The door swung wide, knocked the breeze blocks to the floor and pulled the spooled rope tight. Simone just caught a glimpse of her two best buddies drooling and lolloping towards her peanut buttered feet as the rope was pulled tight. The spool detached and clanked up into the first eyelet and her wrists were pulled out tight to the head of the bed dragging her flat on her back. She squeaked in panic and excitement and dropped her poking stick to clatter to the floor.
Then it began. There was no warming up, no easing into it, no gradual acclimatisation on offer here. George and Evander selected a little wiggling foot each with business-like efficiency and set about relieving it of its tasty coating of peanut butter by means of methodical slobbery licking. Simone wasn’t ready. She knew her feet were ticklish but until she was powerless and tied up in her own devilish apparatus, she hadn’t really understood how intense the tickling would be. Every muscle in her petite little body tensed all at once and she squealed a long squeal, higher pitched than she knew she was capable of.
‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!’
Only once this long involuntary squeal had run its course could she even descend into fits of manic giggles.
‘EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEEEEEE!!’
She gasped in little inadequate lungfuls of air in between peals of shrill giggling as the grateful dogs licked industriously at her ticklish arches. Her feet wiggled, she tried pushing at their noses with her toes but it was no more effective than throwing flower petals at an oncoming steamroller. All it achieved was to attract licks up to the toes themselves, which proved even more ticklish than the arches.
‘EEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE…’ She gasped in air… ‘EEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEE…”
The dogs had been making acceptable progress with her arches where successive tongue lapping could gradually start to clear the sticky peanut butter and reveal the soft pale skin beneath. However the toes proved more difficult since the peanut butter was worked right down in between them and there always seemed to be more there to lick, not least because her toes tended to clench up defensively in a vain attempt to protect themselves from the tongue attack and in so doing, retained the peanut butter.
Simone craned her head up and could see nothing other than two happily wagging tails. She knew that as much as her dogs were young and exuberant, they were also good natured and obedient. It was possible that she could make them stop if she could just imbue her voice with the authoritarian tone they responded to.
‘EEEEHEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEHEHEE!!’ she managed. Nope. ‘STOOOOHOHOHEHEHEEHEEE… STOOOHOHOHOOO…’ *gasp* ‘MPHHAAHAHAA… MPH… STOOOHOHOOOOp STOP STOP!!’ Still no luck. Her voice was elevated to such a desperate squeaky tone that Evander and George paid it no attention. She abandoned the notion and let out a series of surprised little squeals as a nose snuffled around the curve of her left heel and then a tongue began exploring the surprisingly ticklish inside of her ankle.
In her panic, she looked over at the timer. 07:56. Just over two minutes had passed. She threw her head back and squirmed and laughed with abandon as she realised that despite the panic and the desperate need to escape the unbearable tickles on her helpless little feet, she was having the time of her life. She loved getting her feet tickled despite always pretending she didn’t out of embarrassment any time anyone did it. This time pretence was quite quite redundant.
As she alternately hyperventilated and giggled herself faint, she wondered if perhaps she could muster the self-control needed to spread her toes and allow tongue access between them to speed the cleaning process up. Part of the problem was the guessing game. Since the two animals didn’t work in tandem, their pattern was random, one licking the outer edge of her foot and up to her pinkie toe while the other tormented her big toe or her heel. If they at least both licked the same spot, maybe she could cope better and catch her breath. She tried to exercise motor control over her madly wiggling feet but they disobeyed her brain and continued their futile wiggling. She tried again. This time she achieved an element of stuttering faltering success but discovered the flaw in her plan when the spots between her toes were revealed to be the most ticklish spots on her whole body at that point in time. She bucked, scrunched her toes again and yanked on the cuffs. The breeze block assembly lifted a few millimetres clear of the floor and then crunched down again. Well the breeze block assembly had worked perfectly, as had spool-bot. She congratulated herself.
The tickling was still in full swing as the timer reached zero and she craned her head up to watch saw-bot whirr into action and come to her rescue. The robot arm swung slowly to the right as the blade picked up speed. It cut into the rope, halfway… and then retracted back to start position! Simone’s eyes widened in alarm as the rope remained intact. She yanked on the cuffs again as hard as she could but weakened and gassed out from the all the squirming, the breeze block assembly didn’t budge at all.
Most of the peanut butter was cleaned off the smooth areas of her soles by now and George and Evander were now concerning themselves chiefly with her ankles and the tops of her feet where the peanut butter had squished out from in between her toes as she clenched them. She tried to restrict their access to the tops of her toes by flattening them against the stocks but this laid bare the vulnerable undersides again.
‘EEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE!! NOOOHOHOHOONOONOO… STOOHOHOOPP!! EEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!’ She squeaked commands uselessly again and was ignored. She considered yelling downstairs for Alexa to dial her neighbour who kept a spare key, but she didn’t want to be discovered locked in her own tickle torture device and besides there was little chance she would be heard and even less that she would be understood. Eventually the peanut butter would run out right? Surely… Part of her hoped it wouldn’t.
She lay there laughing like a fool, her ticklish feet the thoroughly slobbered lick-toys of two hungry St Bernard’s for another full fifteen minutes before either dog lost any interest in her now comparatively clean feet and wandered off for a break. As the intensity died down, she found she was able to catch her breath, summon her strength and yank repeatedly on the cuffs to try to sever the remaining rope.
‘Ohmagod… Ohmagod… Okay… okay…’
Slowly, strand by strand, and with intermittent continued foot licks from George and Evander which dissolved her into giggles every time, she finally broke the rope and sat upright. Her abdominal muscles were utterly spent from laughing and even sitting up was a struggle. At length she removed the cuffs, unbolted the stocks and rescued her poor feet.
George and Evander came around the side of the bed, their peanut buttered faces gazing up at her expectantly and wondering what fun might be next. She wrapped her arms around them and cuddled them both.
‘Ooooohmagod… Good boys… such good boys! Did you like your treat? What’s that? A perfect system you say? Why thank you Evander! What’s that George? Just need to re-adjust saw-bot? Agreed Evander, good analysis. Awwww, yessh… good boy…’
She slipped her socks back over her wet feet and hopped off the bed. She re-assembled the device with a fresh length of rope, and hefted the breeze blocks back up onto the stool. She repositioned the saw-bot. She ushered the boys back outside the door and re-wedged it. She stripped off her socks again, applied a fresh coating of peanut butter to her feet, locked them back in the stocks, and set the timer for thirty minutes. She slipped the wrist cuffs back on, hit ‘enter’ with her poking stick and yanked out the door wedge.
The dogs lolloped back in excitedly as she was pulled back flat onto the bed.
Simone still wasn’t ready.
