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This was soon accomplished, and wide collar tightly wrapped around her neck. These were connected to each other by two long thin chains. Ken, donned the monks robe, he habitually wore sandals due to his bunions, so it was just a case of rolling up the trousers and removing the socks and the disguise was complete. There was a scurry for folk to take up their instruments, Eric with a sound boom, Paul on camera, and Oliver behind the door of the dungeon. Ken picked up the chains and telling the women to “brace yourselves its going to be a long day!” a fact they had already gleaned, he called “Action!” They went through the charade of a sale of the two women to the dungeon keeper, cash changing hands as the chain was handed over to a triumphant Oliver. The monk left and once out of shot called “cut!”. Oliver was dressed in a loin cloth, bare footed, turban and best gravy browning tan, his fat belly shining in the low lighting of the set, and his face set in a scowl that said he was. Today was casual Friday and just about everyone still there was dressed business casual. Not our Lainey, her suit, blouse and scarf was as business like and impeccable as always.At this point my subconscious, the part of my brain forced to listen to Tracey as she jabbered about her "problem," flagged the fact that she had finished. Reluctantly I dragged my attention back to the job in hand."W... well, l... let's see shall we?"She smiled. For Tracey using men came naturally, it wasn't manipulation or any conscious process at all. Her entire life she had gotten whatever she wanted just by looking at a man and smiling. The urge to take Tracey, to train her to crawl to me on her knees, to beg for even the most basic things, to force her to perform the most filthy debased acts, just welled up inside me. It was all I could do just to fight it back. Desperate to get my mind on the job I glanced down at the little LCD display on her personal laser printer. The code was admittedly a little.
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