My tongue is a desert, every swallow painful. The air is acrid, stinking of sulphur and smoke. Every breath is torture in my lungs, making them burn w...th an evil intensity. The platform Im lying on seems to be made of the same rock as the walls, hard and lumpy, digging into my back. Rusted iron shackles encircle my wrists and ankles, pinned into the volcanic rock with nails as thick as my forearm. I yank at them, jerking my feet up and flinging my arms down, praying that one of the nails will. He had always loved that part of a woman. Just were a few hairs escape being put up. He wanted to bend down and plant a kiss on her neck, run his tongue along the curve of her ear on her tilted head… Alas. He went back to concentrating on what he was doing with his fingers drawing back her soft skin, pressing down slightly from shoulder to hips, starting in the middle and going out to her sides. He stopped there because he knew she was ticklish and he didn’t want to be overly cruel. From there. More

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