…when you’re about to be locked into a cage with two eager-but-bratty hot bi babes, at a party filled with people you don’t know, armed with nothing but a couple of lengths of jute? Not "Oh, yeah, this is going to be fun." Not "I’m going to teach them a lesson in who’s the domliest Dom!" Not even "Dear penthouse, I always thought these letters were fake, until I went to this party…"
No, what goes through your head is a prayer: "Please, God(dess), don’t let me end up on the bottom of that cage hogtied with my own rope…"
S/He heard my prayers, I’m happy to say. I think I get more the whole "cage" thing. It’s nice when they really can’t get away…
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