The moment I hear the strike of the match against the box I know I'm in more trouble. The whoosh of oxygen racing to fuel the flame. The fizz and crackle as it catches. The flicker that the blindfold makes impossible to perceive, yet my mind sees anyway. I struggle. Rope bites my wrists behind me. Gnaws the swell of my breasts, and flesh of each thigh bound to its calf. Intricate, showy
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