"I would have remembered that." "Hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable," she said. I didn't think she really meant that. "No, not really, naked peopl... don't shock me," I told her before taking a big gulp of wine. I didn't really mean that either. Shayla suggested that we go into the living room and sit down. Once there, she settled on the couch, her legs tucked under her. I sat in a recliner across from her. In an effort to keep my eyes off her sexy body my gaze settled on the necklace she was. Even if she somehow got out, where was she going to run? There was no place to get to, the Others would hunt her down, they’d make a game of it, stalking their pretty piece of prey until they finally corner and bag her and back she would go, back into the rubber-lined and nylon foot prisons, back to very horrible and dominating sweaty contraptions where feet would be kissed and licked on demand and retribution dished out for disobedience at the mercy of very dominant mature women who liked. More

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