His email was very specific. 11:15 am. The Park Lane Hotel. Room 127. Don't lock the door. Tie yourself in a chest harness and frogtie. Insert ballgag. Await my arrival.

She was so excited she was barely safe to drive. She got there just in time, stripped off (he hadn't specified clothes, for once, which she guessed meant he hadn't intended her to wear any at all). She knew he would check over her work with a VERY demanding eye. Millimetric precision, details, details... but the clock was ticking, would she get it all done in time? And goodnes, how huge was that ballgag? Quickly, quickly...

The door opened. Time for her examination. She always loved this part the best. The feeling of total exposure, of waiting to be judged, inspected, approved. Too late, she saw that she had not done the same number of turns of rope on her legs. Surely he wouldn't notice?

He did. Of course. He always did. And the punishment? Nipple clamps. And he'd even ensure she applied them nice and tight, and wait the regulation 15 minutes before removing them, and taking her....