"He dropped out of the race or something, didn't he?" "Not exactly, he had a heart attack and then pulled out of the race. He died three days later. Every time John has run for office, from city council on up, something has mysteriously happened to his opponents." "Okay," I said, "that still doesn't prove anything. What about you? You believe your husband made you fall in love with that spell?" She shook her head. "It was much more than that. That spell made me who I am today." "I don't understand, Pamela." "I didn't believe it, couldn't believe it at first when I read it. I thought maybe it was a story he'd written. Or maybe a fantasy, I don't know. I used to be a guy; I used to be John's college roommate. The only thing even close to a friend that he had." I tried not to laugh. "That's impossible." "I can't remember anything past about five years ago when we met. I don't remember my childhood, I don't remember going to school, and I don't remember my parents. Before I was nineteen. Perhaps three feet or more from the tatami matted floor, suspended in the air and moving at the slightest contact or provocation. Twin clips bite into my tender nipple flesh, each connected to a chain running to the other, its weight magnified by gravity’s savage pull. I’m gagged with a tremendous purple ball that tastes faintly of bananas and cinnamon (how he did that I do not know…) and he is pushing his fingers inside me, parting my labia and holding me steady with his other thumb, buried knuckle deep in my ass. He’s getting worked up, finally – I can tell by the way his formerly sagging member rubs up against my inner thighs periodically. Damnit, what's it going to take to make him give me some satisfaction? I'm all wound up with no outlet, and he knows it. That itch between my legs, going deep into me is incredible, my damp nether curls and ass insatiable with want - only my mouth is full, and that too is a tease given that he's given me something to taste. I start to strain.
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