Once I got past the emotional impact of her words, I was chilled by what they implied. Ingrid had suggested gagging me and used the word torture like ...t was something she intended to do to me.Being gagged was something I hadn't contemplated. Ingrid was right. I could scream and attract attention if I really wanted to. We were in a suburban townhouse on a quiet Saturday morning. Neighbours would hear me. A gag would remove that last little bit of freedom from me; rendering me truly. We’d spent most of the evening drinking and watching television. We made out, and I even gave him a head job, but he insisted on more. Finally, I just left his house. I’d planned on staying and sleeping on his couch so I wouldn’t have to drive, but I was pissed, and I did something I knew was wrong.I don’t know how I managed to get the car in the driveway, but I did. While I had a good buzz, I wasn’t falling-down drunk. I turned off the car and sat there for a few minutes while trying to. More

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