She snaps her fingers. My arms move slowly behind me, my wrists cross each other. I feel an icy coldness. The handcuffs. I listen to the clicking as i... closes around my wrists. I look at the keys, watching them drowsily.The sub space creeps in. Fading the harsh edges of my day away. Limiting me to just the here and now. Listening to my breathing. Feeling my heartbeat. Eyes slowly blinking. The handcuffs. Their coldness.She d****s a black scarf over my shoulder. She steps up behind me, coming. Often, I would arrive early and the previous client would still be getting dressed, or the reverse - clients would arrive early. If I had not showered and dressed, he would make them wait outside.He had one client, a French singer who was not very tall but [reportedly] had a dick that reached his knees. At least that is what Bob said, laughing about how he wished his dick could reach his knees. For one appointment I arrived a bit early as the French singer was getting dressed. Bob told me to. More

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