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He got off tonight on slippery friction from my hands when bound, not the idea of being helpless. Interesting. If I gave him another challenge, with me as the prize and his submission as the penalty for failure, would he do it?
Sleep overtook me quickly then, and not even the "Oh God's", "Fuck me's" and rhythmic groans of supposed passion from the TV could keep me awake.
Sydney says she can't wait to see this part. She says she thinks I am progressing by letting it all out. I think she just wants to be a literary voyeur.
But either way, I've in put my time for now. This writing stuff is time consuming, and it's not easy. I may try to finish the thing, dear readers, and you too, Sydney, you pervert, later, but for now, here I quit.
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