SirJames
Registered User

After feeding her breakfast, and locking the door to the bedroom, I turn around. I have her wrists roped behind her back.

She still wears the silk bikini nightie that had almost gotten ripped off the night before during our normal fucking.

But our nights have started to become bland and boring in my opinion.

She isn’t fucking me with a flourish any more. It is starting to seem like she wants to get it over with so she can just go asleep.

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After feeding her, I free her hands from the handcuffs and place her wrists palm to palm behind her back to be tied tightly with cord.

She stands passively, but sulkily obedient to my commands, I do not give her a reason for the change in her restrictions and she does not ask.

I loop a one and one half inch leather strap around her bare elbows drawing it tighter and tighter until her forearms are one behind her back.

“We mustn’t get in a rut with regard

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Training a pretty girl as a slave is an art…

I have writen previously about a single sleeve glove.

Only a woman who has worn one can acuractly describe it.

First you have to grab her,,,

That is up to you;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Then you have to quote “cuff her”

Once a woman is in in your captity, owning a woman is about basics…

Here is how you do it…

Initial training for a slave girl

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Our supper was pleasant, but nothing to write about. Ed is a mysterious guest, I never know what to expect.

I flew in at his request, he said that he would take care of while "arrangements"..



Ed hands me the keys to the apartment in New York city…. On 16th and Adams.
My curiosity is now overcoming me.
It is on the 24th floor

My energy level increases considerably when Ed tells me with a wink that I would find a

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She was a gifted young software designer who happened to work part time as a nude dancer.

One hour before her level-3 sleep period is to end, I enter her cell with a head harness training ball gag and the Single Sleeve Glove.

Very soon after this, she is led to me by a silver chain locked to her collar like a struggling mare.

This twenty-two year old girl's three-inch high heels tap out their staccato sound on the hardwood floor announcing her arrival

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