<strong>Crimson Dove</strong><br/><br/>The Outcaste Courtesan hung from her bindings, her generous breasts rising and falling with her rhythmic breathing, belying the strain on her limbs. She had been hanging like this for hours, taut, tense thighs framing her perfect body, her innermost areas tantalizingly exposed, vulnerable and open. She wriggled ever so slightly in her bonds as he inspected his sculpting of her form in rope and ribbon.<br/><br/>She smiled, her grin knowing, arching her back slightly, both pushing her chest forward and taking a little bit of the strain off her legs.<br/><br/>"Nonsense Sulir...variety is the spice of life, and your attentions...clarify the mind. Perhaps you mistake my impatience to see the product of our evenings together for boredom?"