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Take a seat darling. Let's all get acquainted," said my cyber-lover, more as a gentle suggestion than a manly command. I dutifully sat on the leather sofa, crossing my legs and allowing my slacks to ride up so that the visitors could see I was wearing white stockings. They looked at each other and smiled knowingly. Gary re-filled my glass with a generous measure. What with the jet lag and the bourbon, I was starting to feel quite light-headed. My lover gave a nervous cough and looked at his two friends. In his early sixties, Jim was slim, clean-shaven and wearing a smart business suit. Almost certainly a lawyer, I thought. Hirsute Hank, by contrast, looked more of a rugged backwoodsman, with a big array of tattoos along both arms. "We were wondering, honey," Garry looked at me enquiringly, "if you'd heard of bukakke, back there in the UK?" "Oh sure. Why, were you going to suggest we watched some on a porn channel?" I had wanted to add 'all naked,' but was too shy. The lawyer took. I strolled around, fascinated by the furnishings and equipment, picking up some things and stroking others. I took down from the wall a pair of leather manacles which were joined by a short silver chain, and strapped one of them around my right wrist. My back was to the door, and I jumped in shock when suddenly I heard it click shut.I spun round, and there was Miss Foster looking at me with a steely glint in her eye. She was standing with her back to the closed door, and her right hand held a short riding-crop which she was rhythmically slapping into her left palm ‘You know you are not supposed to come in here’, she said sharply, and I stammered excuses about the open door and just being curious. Miss Foster’s face relaxed into a hint of a smile, and she asked if I had found it interesting and exciting. ‘Oh, yes!’, I gushed, with an enthusiasm which surprised me. Miss Foster let the riding crop fall to her side, and walked across the wide room towards me. Only then did I.
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