Blonde Keyholder Finds Love: It just takes the right Sissy-Boy and some Chastity Training!

Julie smiled at Everett over the candle lit dinner at Morton's Steak House. The grizzled, former Foreign Service officer, now an export magnate, caught Julie's eye and smiled right back.

His brown, tanned hand traveled across the steak tartare and, reaching Julie's small fingers with their French manicure, squeezed them gently. Julie really liked Everett, and thought he seemed malleable.

Most men were fairly malleable in Julie's hands; she was your traditional big-busted, full lipped type, with nearly white-blonde hair that hung in a sexy mane around her shoulders.

The shipping millionaire was unlike many men that Julie had dated, in that Everett seemed to have a strong sense of self, and his interest in Julie was courtly, instead of begging and drooling.

Julie felt like she was being watched... she looked over at a nearby table, and there was Horace, gaping at her. Julie rolled her eyes at him. Yes, you pitiful dunce, I too, go to restaurants...I just don't spend my leisure time as I did with you this afternoon, she thought contemptuously.

Horace had not had a release in 81 days, and he was still wearing his belt, though four hours ago Julie had had it off, and was making Horace's dick shake by tickling it with a greasy piece of dental floss, while he bounced helplessly against his handcuffs.

And here Horace was, with his wife of fifteen years...obviously they hadn't slept together in at least a year and a half, or even showered together, she would've wondered about the Iron Maiden Julie had locked to Horace's crotch.