Sometimes they get put up on a table and eaten, or bent over the table and fucked with a strap-on, or told to get under the table and eat someone. Les...bians can be very aggressive. After all, there are a lot of dominants in here." So the wait staff just have to accept the treatment?" Well, since most of them are slaves, there's not much of a problem." Slaves? How do you know?" Well, did you see the sort of necklace that the hostess and our waitress were wearing? That's a collar. If you want. Good thing she hadn’t locked it. Tim turned her and I caught her arm again as we walked her into the house. Tim asked, ‘Is there a bed with a clean sheet?’ The woman had her teeth clenched but she jerked her chin toward a door and we went into what looked like a guest room. Tim yanked the covers back and we helped her onto the bed. I had seen what looked like a linen closet in the hallway so I ran to it and grabbed a stack of clean towels. I was laying one down between her legs when she gave. Uh? What the fuck. My hands were tied to the bed posts, handcuffed in fact in elaborate chains that held my wrists together as well. I looked down, my ankles were too bound by another set of straps and fixed firmly to the far end of the bed. Ooh he wants to play a naughty little sex game with me, maybe even show me off to the neighbours, give them something to listen to this morning. Hunny? Baaaaaabe. Babe? Where was he? Why would he leave me alone tied up, where is the fun in that, he must be. " "Oh yeah?" Rick raised an eyebrow and gestured at Brody with his beer. "You telling me you never worry about Ryan and all those guys in the other bands?" "No." Brody hadn't given it a thought. Rick threw his head back and laughed. "Brody, you are . . . look, think about it." He leaned across the table. "You can honestly sit there and tell me you don't give a shit about Ryan going on tour, surrounded by—by—all those guitar players?" Brody relaxed back in his chair. "She's been working with.