She was a dancer, a gymnast, and it showed. Every pose she struck seemed to
show her muscle tone, but never to make her look unfeminine. Every pout or
kiss of her lips conveyed the impression that she resented her bondage,
promised revenge upon her lover when she could get loose. But the look in
her eyes promised carnal delights and sensuous adventures, and belied the
snarls and growls. She played with the spreader bars like they were her
trapeze and she was a circus performer. Each pose she struck was more
perfect than the last. It was only a matter of time until her lover broke
down and let her free. Who knows? Perhaps then the tables would be turned?
Or perhaps the toybox would come out from under the bed...