That evening I came home from work, prepared her meal brought it down to the dungeon for her and went back to the kitchen where I ate my Chicken Curry ready meal wishing that I could go back to the days before Pattie became my own live in sex slave and I could go back to pub meals and getting home drunk at ten thirty. She was tied to the iron bound rim of the specially constructed wooden wheel, essentially a wagon wheel, six feet nine in diameter, her hands and feet tied to a spoke each and her neck to a further spoke, carefully bound with thick blue cord, firm enough to hold her but not too tight to mark or hurt her. Aunty sex “We could have a meal?” she suggested. “My head is throbbing,” she said, “And the vibro feels funny.”
“We’ll call it a day for now then?” I queried.
