Chapter 12

Triple Crap. Tonight, I have my hands solely bound and interlaced and knotted to the burly, virile-like, and sinewy rope and cord and hawser that is hitched and pinioned to the ceiling high up there overheard me. An adherent, gummy, icky, and claggy shred and wodge of cellophane tape is placed and settled and propped over my mouth, tethering and lashing and making fast my lips in a manner that I cannot switch and carry and stir about my frame and flesh-and-bones as I feel and desire like. Yeah. It is all so unfavorable and troubling and unpleasant indeed, but what I find lekker and delectable about it is that in no time Stian Elbert will be spanking and fucking and rapping me up as he feels and has a hunch about. Yeah. That is what is exactly and for sure going to happen. Sooner or later. Don't assent so or even feel thus yourself?

I fifty per cent or incompletely naked. Meaning? I am actually and in fact starkers or undressed but then I am not that all entirely and every inch buck naked and without a stitch on like I was in the bare-scud on that fixed and particular date that I was born into this heartbroken and gloomy wretched world of ours. I am having on a swarthy black brasserie and an attractive shred and bit of stygian-murky frillies or simply women's undies or lingerie which for the chieftain and baas part is uncovering and laying bare the extremity of my thighs and the lower part or pedestal of my buttocks and behind in that very charming and enjoyable-to-look-at way. Yeah. Stian will be fucking me up in this, I presume and imagine so—don't you?