sweetsurrendermm:Get on the bed. A favorite position. Listening as the black leather belt comes undone. The sound of the buckle. The sound of the leather as it slides through the belt loops.

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Intimationsss

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Youmakemeneedyou: Memory The Rope Was Not Rope, It Was Not A Prop, It Was Not Even A Way Of Holding Her In Place. It Was A Memory. A Memento Of His Touch, Of The Strength That Transferred From Him To Her As He Wrapped Her In The Rope. It Held A Power

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