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Photo reblogged from My Trousers Rolled with 393 notes
They had their rituals, just like any couple. She’d make the tea. He’d look after the BBQ whenever they got out the grill. Laundry was her responsibility, as was making sure the conditioner stayed the same. He managed the accounts.
But they had their own idiosyncrasies that went a ways to setting them apart. She’d always go to sleep a good hour before him, because he was a little nocturnal like that, and always did his work past midnight. He’d pick out her outfit for the next day, laid out on the floor at the base of their bed.
She’d make the tea naked. Well, naked apart from the yoke.
And he’d find her, after reading the paper, drinking that tea, and perhaps having a piece of toast, dressed and gagged, chained to his study wall. From there he could decide what to do with her, where she would go.
But then, every couple has their own little rituals. They’re all the same, really.
I love the idea of being chained near you. Like to the leg of you desk while you are working, me forced to sit or lay on the floor to make myself content with a book or a game.