Maybe— ‘Are you looking for these?’ I probably would have screamed if my throat and mouth hadn’t already been so filled with cotton. ‘Who a...e you?’ I squeaked, my arms snapping quickly closed to cover my breasts, my shoes still in hand, but I knew it was too late. And I knew, in an instant, who he was. Of course. It was Catherine’s husband. If nothing else, I would have recognized him by the vanity wedding photo over the fireplace—the dark, curly hair and smiling eyes were a giveaway, although. Her knees pull up to her chest, then thrust down hard, bouncing her up and letting her get a tiny breath. Again and again... but each time it's a little harder. She's getting tired... weak from lack of air... Her bouncing movements pull the noose ever tighter around her neck... now she can't breathe at all. Her eyes grow wide and her face turns red. She feels a delicious sensation beginning between her legs... tries to rub her thighs together... frustrated by the bindings at her ankles. She. More

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