We had just gone past the point of land where the last cottages were, when our lunch destination came into view about a mile and half down the lake --...a small island near the far shore.Mandy announced that she wasn't about to waste the last chance to touch up her tan. She laid her paddle across the gunwales and whipped off her sweatshirt. Our canoe slowed at the same time as my husband paused to admire her naked breasts. They were impressive -- smaller than mine but well preserved for a lady in. Of anger, of indignation, of humiliation, of helplessness, of defiance, of shame, but also of growing submission and arousal. The lead wasn’t particularly strong, but it didn’t need to be. They both knew it was merely symbolic of the growing mental chains which he had entrapped her in. ‘You are my bitch,’ he tugged on her leash. ‘I…am…your…bitch,’ he smiled wickedly as she tried, and failed, to resist his power. ‘Would you like to go out for a walk, bitch?’ Out here? That would make her earlier. More

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