She was a short, wide woman, not fat looking, but with wide hips and shoulders. Large breasts, short very blond hair. Maybe too blond. She was wearing...an ankle length skirt, slit to the hip. Ankle high bootlets. It was too dim in there to try to judge her age from where I was, but she was clearly a handsome woman. One would start a new movement, and then the other would copy. They were often inches apart, shaking their breasts at each other, grinning. Of course, every eye in the place was now. There she was, in the middle of the room just as I had left her-tied to one ofour heavy oak kitchen chair, arms behind her, legs pulled back, so that herfeet were off the floor and her ankles were tied to the chair's rear legs - abright red ball gag in her mouth and a matching ribbon sash with a bow wrappedaround her, coming down between her breasts. About the only thing shecould move was her head, and she jerked it back in surprise (I guess it wassurprise, wondering what could truly surprise. More

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