<div class="floatright">(http://static.desktopnexus.com/thumbnails/739728-bigthumbnail.jpg)<strong><br/>   Ophelia Rockefeller<br/>   In Macheath's bathroom<br/>   With Macheath<br/>   Getting her butt healed<br/></strong><hr/></div>Ophelia grunted in her gag as Macheath pushed her against the wall, holding her by her handcuff chain. She hated how such simple restraints were rendering her totally helpless, at the mercy of anyone, without any way to express her protest. Her face and breasts were flattened against the bulkhead.<br/><br/>The towel fell down and then the man began to spread some kind of cream on her wounded buttocks. The mere touch was painful, but then the cream began to warm up and the aching increased. She moaned and wiggled her butt, trying to escape the unwanted touch. It was obvious Macheath was enjoying it. His hand was not acting like a nurse's or physician's. He was as much spreading cream as he was exploring her butt. And indeed it was quite a sight, if one ignored the ugly marks on it. It was firm, round, muscular and firm.<br/><br/>At last the humiliating treatment came to an end and as Macheath offered to pull her shorts up, Ophelia shook her head. The mere idea of the jeans touching her sensitive skin was causing the hair to stand up on her nape. With muffled sounds, she instead pointed at the towel, which had fallen on her feet.