I've now rewritten and deleted this post four times. I think I might need to kill this blog too. Or get a ghostwriter. I'm glad it's Friday but watching the days creep by with nothing to show for them, random bits of good news notwithstanding. Chaining myself up to finish, and trying to visualize the end result as a much better version than what it is now.
From "Foot and Mouth" by Marina Saint:
Shiny silver bondage tape. Dangling bells at the ends of matching nipple clamps. A black leather paddle. A Wartenberg wheel, that tiny mean metal medical implement. Pink feathers. And an evil grin. I shivered not so much because Bennett had those sadistic items in his hands, save for the last, which he sported on his lips, but because I could already feel the sticky heat of the tape trapping my mouth, the brush of the light feathers against the overly sensitive skin under my arms, the wheel winding its maddening way along my tender, ticklish soles. Even more than those inanimate objects that my man loves to animate, though, it was him that made me shiver.