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CHAPTER 4

In my basement I have a weight bench, and for my purposes it would serve as a faux-bondage bench. One visit to the neighborhood hardware store, and I was the proud owner of 50 feet of royal blue ¼ inch marine line. Several minutes with a knife, ring bolts, and JB-Weld, and my weight bench now was a shiny altar for my predations upon the soft young (well, not so young, any more, but then neither was I) body of my ex. Each length of the rope now terminated in an abbreviated noose. This was not for asphyxia, but rather because I could apply it to a wrist or ankle, and release it readily with little effort, and it would not release itself despite vigorous wriggling by my captive. Two at the upright, two at the other end, and she would be secured, open and helpless. In addition, the thickness of the rope and its texture would protect her from actual injury. One final short length with an abbreviated noose at each end would serve either as a hobble or as hand cuffs. And, the blue would set off her eyes!

My girlfriend, long suffering and nearly endlessly understanding, was not shy about giving voice to her misgivings. Fortunately, she was well acquainted with the catalog of Annie's misdeeds, and was sympathetic to my desire for, well, revenge. Her price for her acquiescence to my rendezvous with the ex, was that she would get to be videographer. I did not think that it was unreasonable, in contrast to the demands I was laying out for Annie, and readily agreed. If Annie balked at ...

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