Paul had always been good with women, and no longer freezing with the cold, he reverted to form and casually grabbed the back of Celia’s neck sending a delightful shiver that caused instant goosebumps to skin-surf her entire body. ‘Damn you!’ she bawled, but her shoulders were already scrunching in delight. In the back of her mind Celia was thinking: Is Paulie my imaginary guy come to life? Jim hasn’t done that in ages. Is it too much to hope for? Hasn’t held my hair–-mmmm, yeah like that! Christ, how did he know to do that? Yes …tight … oh, yes! Right at the root where the hairline meets the nape of my neck… please-please-please, pull it, but gently, gently, gently. ‘Ohhh, yes, Paulie, baby, just like THAT! And hold it, hold it, HOLD IT! ‘AHHHHHH, now please … pull it again, ahhh, sooo good. Soooo fuckin’ good!’ Paul did just that. ‘AHHHHHH!’ Celia’s heels and toes slowly and desperately peeled off the floor. A moment later her brain was teeming with urgency, craving, lust and …. " He chortled, "and we can't have your pretty little limbs getting all numb and losing circulation." He moved my limp arms to be in front of me, and latched on thick, lambs wool-lined cuffs. "Now, I'm probably being way too kind here, but I sense that you've been pretty scared by all of this -- which, of course, was my intention, pet." He laughed to himself. "I am going to remove your hood, and I'm trusting that you will not scream. Is that correct? Do I have your word slut?" "Yes, Sir." I whispered. "Because I bet you're a little thirsty, and although you're talented, I'm willing to wager that you can't drink through that hood." He laughed his husky laugh again, amused at His handiwork, and gently removed the hood that had been secured over my head. I blinked slowly several times, letting my eyes adjust to the change of light. I took in my surroundings: we were the bowels of some sort of sailing vessel - a yacht, a sailboat, i wasn't sure. The walls were caverns of thick dark.
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