Lessons in Excess
by R G Bargy

Despite Mattís initial reluctance it seemed to Fransesca that she was getting tied up more and more often. She had now spent several nights immobilized in some way, though not on the garage floor, that had been an experience she did not want to repeat. She had been quite happy to try and forget the kidnapping scenario and let him tie her on the bed or the bedroom floor. He had obviously been researching the subject and his skills at tying her were much improved. So much so that she had lost the will to escape. There has been no more surprise visits. They had decided to keep it in the family for the time being.

This time he had used the spare bed, leaving her alone all night again but not so uncomfortable as the garage had been. She was tied spread-eagled on her back with a pillow under her hips, and no duvet. The heating was on so she did not get cold, but neither did she get much sleep. She was in fact cocooned in ropes around her torso, bunching her tits and squeezing her all over. Added to that he fucked her three times during the night, once at three oíclock in the morning. He was rough and hard banging into her like he was possessed and growling out his climax. She felt used and abused. She even wondered whether Matt loved her any more. This was so impersonal. Of course he was only following her instructions about using her as he wished, but there was no thought of her sexual satisfaction here. There was no crupper or vibrator to interfere with his access to her so consequently there was no stimulation for her either. Despite the bondage she was not in the least bit turned on so that in the morning she actually refused his offer to give her pleasure before he left for work. He freed her right hand saying:

"Perhaps we will try again later," and then left her to untie herself.

She debated not doing so and lying there all day, but that seemed childish, after all she had refused him, not the other way round. She was sure he thought he was only doing what she wanted. He still could not fully understand how she felt, or what she really wanted. Maybe she did not either. There was a marked difference between fantasy and reality. She had to admit that Matt had made things different. She had had some amazing orgasms, as well as some disappointments, but isnít that just life. The only answer was to try and force his hand into doing things her way. She decided it was time for a different approach that might both surprise him, and encourage him at the same time. She untied her other wrist and her ankles but did not attempt to untie the ropes around her torso. She may have had to cut them to free herself anyway, which was a shame, and it would make her idea easier to achieve. They would not interfere with her wandering about the house.

It seemed decadent wandering around naked except for the ropes that still clung to her body. They reminded her of Matt and how much his ropework had improved. She was titillated and caressed as she moved around the house. It was a shame there was nothing for her pussy, but she was sure that would come when Matt saw her. It was her house, she was free to dress, or undress as she wished, but her dressing gown was hooked over the banister in case of a surprise visit. None came, the day passed without incident.

She carried out her normal chores and prepared dinner. Half an hour before Matt was due home she went upstairs and picked out a suitable piece of rope. She had decided against complete immobility, she was going to serve him, not demand immediate attention. She had never tried to tie her hands in front of her before so it took several attempts to wind the rope and knot it using her teeth to pull it tight. It would never hold all night, she thought, but it was more symbolic than restrictive.† She heard his car drive up and peeked through curtains to make sure that he was alone. It would be just her luck for him to choose that night to entertain, and she would have had to scurry upstairs to try and get suitably presented. It was unlikely of course, but she thought she had planned for most contingencies. He was alone, so she went into the hallway to greet him. How to stand? Kneeling would have more impact, she decided.

She knelt, knees slightly apart so he could see the ropes still around her, head down and bound hands raised towards him. She would not be able to see his reaction but she was sure it would have a dramatic effect. She had no idea what she would be starting, especially as his initial reaction was not what she expected.

"Bloody Hell Fransesca! Let me get my coat off, donít we do enough of that already!" He boomed, with blatant disgust. "Have you been like that all day? Some of us have to work you know! This bondage business is taking over everything."

Fransesca leapt to her feet like a scolded kitten.

"I was trying to surprise you," she said weakly, "I thought you might like to be served by a naked servant." She explained unsure what to do with herself, whether to try and see it through or bolt upstairs. "Your dinner is ready, if you sit up to table I will get it for you," she continued nervously.

She had laid the table as if it was for a special banquet, with cloth, place mat, even napkin and candelabra. It was set for one person. She had already eaten, she was here to serve.

She found him seated waiting for her, she could not tell if he had mellowed or if he appreciated the effort she had gone to. She was trying to please him, but he seemed to think she was being selfish or something.

"Your dinner sir," she said in her best servantís voice. She put the meal in front of him her hands still bound tightly together. She had even opened a bottle of wine for him and had to concentrate hard to try and pour it two handed. She stood slightly behind him, silent and still, while he ate. He seemed to be ignoring her.

She had prepared one of his favorite meals, chicken in white wine. She watched him eat forcing herself to keep perfectly still. This was harder than being tied up.† With ropes there was no choice, now it was only her will keeping her from moving.

"Very nice," he said appreciatively, "now whatís for dessert?"

His choice of words encouraged her. ĎPuddingí, ĎAftersí, even ĎSweetí she would have expected, ĎDessertí was a word reserved for dining out, maybe she was getting through to him after all.

She served him a rather flamboyant trifle with squirted cream and a cherry on top. He looked pleased. She suggested he sit down more comfortably in front of the television while she fetched him some coffee. She placed it on a small tray and knelt down beside him holding it in front of her while it cooled. He switched on the news and absentmindedly sipped from the cup, placing it back on her tray between gulps. When he had finished she took it back to the kitchen and returned, kneeling as before, waiting his next move.

The news over he switched off the TV and she felt his eyes on her. She kept her head down, unsure of his mood. He grabbed her still bound wrists and pulled her up and over his knees. Fransesca was shocked, she struggled but he held her easily.

"This is for allowing your little fantasies to get out of hand," he said briskly and he spanked her bare bottom, holding her shoulders down with his other hand. Even the simple rope around her wrists was enough to stop her fighting him off and she had to submit to a severe spanking. It hurt too. She actually cried out as her bottom was attacked. She was still reeling from this unexpected turn of events when he stood up and dragged her onto a chair. She winced as she was sat down.

"Donít move!" He commanded her.

Her bottom hurt, she was shocked and upset. He returned with some rope and proceeded to tie her to the chair, leaving her wrists bound in front of her. A rope went around her waist which he then tied to her wrists holding them to her. He pulled her arms back tying then behind the chair and holding her upright. He tied her ankles to the front legs of the chair, and pulled her legs wide knotting the rope under the seat. To her surprise she was perfectly held even with her hands in front of her. He had not even retied her hands, they were still held by her own ingenuity.

"I had bought this as a treat for you," he told her producing a vacuum packed card which revealed a wicked-looking ball gag. "Now open wide."

She could not argue. She had started things and had to put up with what ever followed. Since that day with Paul there had been no talk of gags. She had not stopped him and now was not the time to do so.

"Now chew on that while I decide what to do next," he commanded. He seemed ready to leave her then grabbed something and turned back.

"You want sex? Have a vibrator." He stuffed a prick shaped vibrator between her legs and switched it to its lowest setting. He turned away from her in apparent disgust. Fransesca was mortified yet despite her discomfort she was reacting to the vibrator. She had never seen Matt like this, what had she done?

It was a long uncomfortable evening. The vibrator kept her warm but not satisfied. Matt ignored her except for the occasional tweak of the nipple as he went past. Her own wrist tie held her. She was painfully aware of her bottom, it hurt and her wriggling only made it worse. It was a disaster. Eventually Matt twisted the vibrator up to full power and made sure it was inside her. With a little added encouragement to her tits she was quickly satisfied. He freed her from the chair but still did not untie her hands or take out the ball gag.

"You want permanent bondage?" He said "Iíll give you permanent bondage." He tied her still bound wrists to the top of the spare bed and her feet to the foot of it. She tried to complain that he would not be able to hear her but he was not listening.

The night passed uneventfully, she actually slept most of it despite her bondage. In the morning he freed her as if nothing had happened.

She had to work that day so the trials and tribulations were pushed aside. She thought nothing more about it until a week or so later. She got up to find her knickers drawer empty. She was confused, she was sure that she had done the washing only the other day. She stood there feeling foolish when Matt poked his head round the door. He had got up before her, nothing unusual about that, but she had not been aware of him doing anything untoward.

"Where are all my knickers and things," she demanded, "my bra, my panties?"

"You wonít need them," he said.

Fransesca looked at him agog.

"Are you crazy?"

"I decided I liked being greeted by a naked and bound woman so whenever I am in the house thatís how you will be. Naked, except for the ropes that I put on you."

"But what about shopping?" She cried exasperated. "I canít go out shopping with no knickers on."

"Why not? Youíve done it before."

Fransesca had to stop and think for a second. They had gone to the late night shop with her wearing a rope body harness under her coat.

"That was different," she complained, "it was just an experiment, a game to see if anyone would react."

"No one noticed," he answered disarmingly, "no one cares." He announced with a certain amount of arrogance. "Just put on a dress or something, you canít see through a coat."

"But I donít always wear a coat." She retorted.

"You will now," he said unhelpfully, "You wanted more bondage, Iím just giving it you." He said brandishing a long piece of rope. "Now come here and shut up. I havenít got all day."

She should have stopped him there and then. She should have called a halt and prevented what was to come, but something inside her told her that it was her idea that had started it. That evening of pain and discomfort was going to be worth it. He was going to give her a life of continued excitement and stimulation. She would have all the bondage she could wish for, a fantasy come true. It seemed a great idea at the time.

He put the rope on her in a way she had never known before. It was a long piece and he twisted and knotted until her body was covered in a neat diamond lattice. Her tits were bunched slightly but not uncomfortably, there was no crupper to block her passages but he had looped over each thigh like a harness giving the ropes tension to pull against. It was like a second skin almost, hugging and not uncomfortable. Her arms and legs were completely untouched.

"Perfect," he whispered.

Fransesca gave him a twirl.

"Beautiful," he confirmed.

Fransesca was pleased.

"Now are you intending to go out today?" He asked her, with a slight ironic edge to his voice.

She thought for a moment, "No I do not think so, why?" She was suspicious. Surely he could not be thinking of leaving her immobile all day? Someone might call, the postman, anyone. She watched him fetch a couple of ropes with growing consternation.

"Just symbolic you understand," he said mysteriously tying the ropes to the harness, one either side.† He finished with a rope around each wrist tethered to her body with a couple of feet between them. She could not raise her arms above her head, but she would be able to achieve most tasks with little difficulty. She just hoped she would not need to take anything from the higher kitchen cupboards.

"You may remove them if someone comes to the door," He told her, "but I expect to see you like this when I come home."

Fransesca was excited and nervous all day. Despite his instructions about visitors there would be a long delay between hearing someone and being able to see them. She mentally rehearsed what she must do, and it seemed it would take several minutes to free her hands, throw on a dressing gown, and ensure that nothing was showing. It would be quicker than she imagined however.

The doorbell had made her jump. She was not expecting anyone. She had fumbled a bit with the knots at her wrists but had left the tethers to dangle from her sides. The dressing gown on its own would have been too revealing so she had got out a nightie. The only thing left was to explain why she was still in her night clothes at two o'clock in the afternoon! She ran water over her hairbrush and made her hair very damp.

"Sorry I was washing my hair," she lied as she opened the door.

Susan seemed to accept the excuse without question.

"I just dropped round to see if you wanted to go Christmas shopping, it's more fun with two."

Christmas! Fransesca had not even thought of Christmas.

"Why not," she said without thinking, "it will take me a few minutes to get ready, why not make yourself a drink."

She rushed upstairs hoping there was nothing incriminating lying around in full view of her friend. Susan also worked at the supermarket and they had got quite friendly. She was not married, but seemed to have a string of boyfriends. Conversation tended to be superficial but Fransesca enjoyed her company.

It took more than a few minutes to dry her hair and find suitable outdoor clothing. She decided on trousers and a roll top jersey. Nothing showed and no wind or bending would reveal anything unusual.

It had been an enjoyable couple of hours. They had shopped and talked, and she had actually found several good presents. She waived Susan good-bye and closed the front door with a sigh. She stripped off slowly trying to decide whether Sue would have noticed anything. It was too late now anyway, she had about an hour to get Matt's dinner and prepare herself for him.

It was remarkably difficult to replace the ropes around her wrists especially the one on the right. She was completely right handed and despite her experience at knot tying, it seemed impossible to persuade her left fingers to work properly. Eventually she succeeded and was able to greet Matt naked except for his ropes.

This time he was obviously happy to see her. She was not going to serve him, but sitting down to eat was a very strange experience. Not only did she have to be wary of letting the ropes drop in her dinner, she felt very self conscious. She was naked, and he was fully clothed.

The eveningís entertainment had been very enjoyable. He had ravished her, not leaving her alone for a minute. The position had been unusual in as much as he had tied her wrists to her ankles making her into a sort of ball. She had rolled about on the floor while he had attacked her from all angles. She was exhausted. There were no restrictions to her limbs that night but the harness remained.

"What about bathing?" she questioned next morning. "Are you expecting me to bathe with this rope still wound round me?"

"It's nylon," he answered dispassionately, "It won't hurt getting wet."

Fransesca bit her lip to stop a scathing remark. There were no tethers that day but the ropes stayed on. She learnt that there was more than symbolism to the harness itself. It made an excellent base for tying to. Her hands could be attached to it at the back front or even held to her sides. A crupper could be added or removed at will. Her tits were actually well supported by the ropework, much like a bra, but of course she was permanently vulnerable to groping by hand or additional stimulation by rope or other means. Despite her doubts she could live an apparently normal public life without ever removing Matt's ropes. She could even go to work and no one was aware of anything different.

As the weeks progressed the harness became a symbol of her degradation from wife to captive slave. He was not cruel, and even now she was sure that he thought he was doing what she wanted, but he had taken it further than she originally intended. Bondage was almost constant when he was with her. He had even taken to tying her up at the table and feeding her which she found both demeaning and frustrating not even being able to choose what she would taste next. She was free during the day of course, except at week ends when Matt tied her up then got on with what ever he wanted. The orgasms were great, but she did not always want them. Occasionally she rebelled.

One interesting result of this increased activity was that she had now escaped his ropes several times.

The first time had been a surprise for both of them. He had started to tie her and she had really not wanted it so she had fought him. He had won of course, he was bigger than her and once the ropes had captured a wrist she was fighting a losing battle, but she had kept struggling. The result was that the ropes were not as tight and the knots a little less secure. He had not checked to see if she was secure, after all she had never escaped before. He had left her alone and she had freed herself with relative ease. She had walked in to the lounge where he was examining the newspaper and his face had been a picture. His mouth dropped, his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost then she thought she had even seen anger. He would have tied her again but she pointed out that she was now free for the rest of the day. That had been part of the initial rules. If she escaped the game was over. He had lost.

To some extent it had been a hollow victory. The following time his ropework had been fierce, and he had checked and double checked to ensure his captive did not escape again. She had not tried either. The atmosphere had been awful, he had not appreciated her success and her pleasure had been short lived.

It had taken her a little while to work out why up until then she had been unable to free herself. The fact was she had been so enthusiastic about his involvement, so much so that she had always submitted passively to his ropes. She had let him tie her as he wished and only started fighting when he had finished. It was clear she had defeated herself with her submissiveness. For her to be able to escape she had to disrupt his tying in some way. She did not want to make such a fuss as that first time because he would soon notice and be more careful when ever she showed signs of rebellion. Her resistance must be more covert. She would clench her fists so that her wrists were more resilient and the ropes could not bite in so far. She would hold her hands slightly apart instead of tight together. She would anticipate his knot tying and make a slight jerk or outward pressure giving her a bit more rope to work with.

Some positions were easier to escape than others. With her limbs spread wide she had less maneuverability and even if the tethers were slightly less taught the ropes around her wrists were still inaccessible. She did manage to squeeze her hand out once though. It had taken a long time and she had scraped her skin raw, but she had done it. She had not paraded her success either instead retreating to the bedroom with a good book and awaiting his discovery.

His reaction was more confusion than anger. He could not work out what had changed and as she did not always attempt to escape, even if she was able, he had not worked out what she was doing.

All this just added to the captor, captive syndrome.† He was more and more restrictive: demanding her immobility or at least tying her hands, virtually the whole time. He did still listen to her objections and of course the safe word was inviolable. No matter how worked up involved he had become if she demanded release he complied. She did not abuse the privilege however, submitting to his will, or just escaping if she could. He had tied her thumbs together once, which had felt very uncomfortable and nothing like she had ever wanted so she had vetoed it. There had been no argument, it was still officially her game, but in truth she had lost control long ago.

She had also decreed that bindings must be made of rope, no belts or buckles. Hoods were not permitted either. She accepted blindfolds and had allowed the ball gag but total enclosure was not to be tolerated. The one and only time her head had been covered with a pillow case she had gone almost frantic. Whether it was a latent fear of suffocation, claustrophobia or just plain discomfort, her head was never to be covered again.

He had bought a few accessories that she had approved of. She had a large collection of body jewelry. She was not pierced in any way, save for her ears of course, but there were adornments for her tits, her labia, even her nose. She did not necessarily like the way they felt, but she had no real objection and he seemed to appreciate the decorations. They also tended to increase her desires for satisfaction. There were new vibrators too like a remote controlled butterfly which he could control from virtually anywhere in the house. It made her times alone more exciting, it also occasionally distracted her in the middle of a daring escape. Several times she had started to squirm free then changed her mind when her groin was unexpectedly vibrated.

He had asked her permission to find different types of gag. She had been reluctant at first but his persistence had made her construct a series of guidelines. No inflatables, and no tongue clamping. No homemade devices and no loose filling. She was also not to be blindfolded if gagged. Despite all this he had come up with several alternatives to the ball gag. One was a leather strap, he had checked that this did not contravene her earlier demands, to which she had agreed.

It sat neatly over her mouth with a wadded pad sewn inside which filled her mouth without any risk of choking. She had to admit that it was the most elegant of the devices when he produced a mirror for her to see by, it was also most effective.

The one she liked the least, but tolerated was a metal O covered in thin leather. It sat just inside her lips in front of her gums and was very uncomfortable. It enabled him to enter her mouth without risk of biting, but it also meant she could never relax properly let alone sleep. There was one rule she had made concerning the use of this horrible item: she was not to placed on her back. She still had worries over his use of her mouth as an orifice rather than letting her pleasure him of her own volition. She could not see any advantage to him either as it must be like wanking a milk bottle or other tube. Nevertheless he quite regularly tied her so as to avail himself of this means of orgasm and she had to admit that it was her idea in the first place for him to do such things. "You can fuck me how you like and know that I am enjoying it" she had said. She had been wrong, but that was her fault not his. She realized that if she stopped every new idea, or old one for that matter, there would nothing left for Matt to do. He would be more of a slave than she was. Her games relied on not knowing everything, so she endured what she must, and enjoyed what she could.

She did have enjoyment there was no denying it. Some of the orgasms were beyond anything she had ever known. Matt was also adept at either stopping too soon and making her beg for release, or continuing beyond where she would normally have gone and waiting for the safe word. She enjoyed the challenge of trying to escape and had satisfaction when ever she succeeded, despite the subsequent loss of orgasm or uneasy silence while Matt brooded over his loss.

She still had a life while Matt was at work, and had found clothes that concealed her life of bondage from onlookers or friends alike. She was even allowed a period without the harness when her skin erupted in sores or the rope deteriorated due to the continuous usage.

There are only so many ways that you can tie someone up, some are more comfortable that others. Fransesca was glad that Matt did not tend to use that might be termed non symmetrical ties where she was stood on one leg, or her arms were not tied together or spread wide apart. Naturally she had her preferences. She like her hands behind her, and her orgasms were still more powerful when her legs were tied together. She had told Matt to be inventive and he had obviously tried to. With the passage of time, certain favorites emerged. He seemed to like to enter her from behind 'doggie style'. This meant her bottom was often raised or at least exposed. She could be knelt or on her tummy, even standing but it seemed to her that he rarely allowed her to sit. He would play with her bottom as well. Since that first spanking her had never offered more than the occasional slap, but he did seem to enjoy squeezing and tormenting her bottom. On one occasion he drew a target on her and threw wet sponges from the other side of the bathroom while she stood quivering with her hands tied to the bath taps. It had been a strange idea but not unpleasant.

He liked the crupper too making sure it ran straight down between her buttocks and tightly between her legs. He knew exactly where to place a knot so it touched her clitoris, and had once insisted that he make herself come after attaching the end to her hands still bound behind her back. She had been both embarrassed and frustrated and her arms ached for ages from the strain of trying to rub herself into a frenzy.

He managed three orgasms in a row one evening pounding at her like he was possessed. She now thought she knew what it was like to be raped, even though she had given him full permission of course.

Then came the time when she decided it had gone too far. It was no longer fun. She was fighting him all the time, a battle of wills not harmless fun. It had become serious. He was trying to subdue her and she was slowly wilting under the pressure. She seemed to have become less than a person somehow. She was more like a plaything or a pet. He had taken to leading her around on a leash attached to his belt. She would have to call a halt, but how to do it?

She decided on a dramatic approach, one which might just save their marriage, and rekindle the love that seemed to have been buried under mountains of rope.

There were several days between her decision and its fruition in real life. First she had to get some new underwear. She had money, of course, she was not that sort of slave. She also still had her credit cards.

She bought good quality, not erotic underwear. It was not for viewing, just to replace the ropes that still bound her. She could not go out and try on a dress without underwear, she would most certainly not be able to hide her harness. She booked an appointment had her old hairdressers. They did not seem to have noticed her absence; then again why should they?† She spied out the dress that she wanted but would have to wait for the actual day before she could purchase it.

Matt was blissfully unaware of her plans, and she even managed to enjoy the orgasmic finale.

She had waited a full hour after he left for work before attacking the harness with a pair if scissors. She shredded it, dumping everything into a bin liner. She ran herself a bath and luxuriated in her new freedom. The diamond markings were still visible on her body, but they would disappear in time she concluded.

The rest of the day seemed to fly by, she was so busy. She booked a table at a restaurant they used to frequent, she did her nails. Her hair was cut and permed, she added make up, something that she had not done since the first day of her imprisonment. As the time approached for the unveiling she looked at herself in the mirror. She was sure that once again she would have his complete attention, her stomach churned as if she was going on a first date.

Once again he was met at the door. Her pose was not in the least submissive, she actually opened the door before his key had reached the lock.

"Fransesca!" Was it surprise? Indignation? Or something else?

"Where is your.." he started, but she raised a finger towards his lips.

"Sausages," she said softly, "I have had enough."


"No buts," she said more firmly, "it is finished. You are taking me out for dinner, and tonight we will make love as equals."

"I thought you wanted," he began slowly, "I did not mean to," he faltered.

She embraced him with a warm hug.

"I know," she said gently, "I'm as much at fault in all this. I started it, now I am stopping it," she said with conviction. It was as if he melted in her arms.

"Fransesca," he almost sobbed, "what have we done? What have I done?" he corrected.

"We got carried away," she said still hugging him closely. He seemed to want to push her away.

"Let me look at you," he said softly. "You look amazing," he complimented, "I had almost forgotten how beautiful you really are."

Fransesca blushed.

"I will book that meal," he said his authority returning.

"I already have," she informed him. It was difficult not to sound critical.

"Of course," he said, "I'm sorry. It's going to take me a while to get things straight again. I will get ready. What time are we booked for?"

It was the start of a wondrous evening. It was as if they were dating for the first time. He was the perfect gentleman. They had decided to see if there was a film at the cinema they liked. They found one: romantic and funny with no sign of sex or bondage. They had still found time to make love as she had demanded. She could not remember the last time she had been able to touch him unhindered. They had hugged and cuddled for long periods of time. They kissed passionately and they made love in unison. They had even climaxed together for the first time ever and they had rested still joined. It seemed like there was smile etched into her face, she was so happy. She slept in is arms that night, not in his bonds.

The next few weeks were like a second honeymoon. Matt was so attentive, never ignoring her or demanding to be left alone. He showered her with flowers and chocolates, real jewelry and new clothes. Her knickers and bras were retrieved from the boot of his car. He had actually debated giving them to charity but had never found the time, or so he had claimed. Sex was less frequent but much more intimate. He seemed to want her to stimulate him orally more than he used to, but other than that things returned to some sort of normality. Bondage was not mentioned, and all her toys were kept out of sight, and out of mind. They had had a ceremonial shredding of all remaining ropes and only the remote controlled vibrator remained in use. He liked her to wear it occasionally so that he could titillate her in public. It was a bit of fun really and he never forced her to orgasm unless they were alone, although they had been in the car or even on a park bench on one occasion.

He had become a little more dominant, but not enough to be overbearing. He surprised her with meals out or trips to the cinema or night club. Life was good and interesting, but even second honeymoons have to come to an end. One afternoon Fransesca was watching an old black and white movie when leading lady was taken prisoner. She was tied to a chair, unconvincingly of course but despite the poor quality of the picture and the fully clothed, not really struggling heroine, Fransesca's heart rate increased. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, she started sweating and her eyes were transfixed. An insatiable urge swept over her, she went upstairs and pulled Matt's dressing gown belt from its loops. She wrapped her wrists in it and debated trying to tie herself. She resisted, throwing it away like a dirty rag, but the urge remained. She had thought herself cured, it appeared she had just been over medicated. With Matt no longer so attentive, she wanted some excitement again.