I try and pull away and again I feel the tip of his knife against my throat , pushing in almost breaking this skin but not quite. I relax my arms and ...uickly my hands are handcuffed. The headboard is metal and very sturdy. I know there is no way I can get out of the handcuffs but I still try. I pull on them as hard as I can. It doesn’t budge. I hear laughter. “ Struggle all you want you aren’t going anywhere until I am done with you.’ he sneers. I feel him lean over me and then he starts to. A head appears, so close I can touch it. Curls, a jumble of sausage curls,inviting curls, beseeching fingers to play with them, clutch at them, losethemselves in them. To grasp, to capture, to control the head beneath them,drawing it forward, then down, guiding it down to play, to worship, to lap.Those curls, curls of willing surrender, offering pleasure to receivepleasure in turn. A coman's curls, soft, docile, devoted to pleasing hiswoman.Ringlets fall behind, from under one side of the crown. More

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