I take her, one strong hand gripping her leash and lead her to a simple bench, two slim and flat slats of board for its legs, cushioned black leather upholsters its top. She doesn’t fight. She’s learned to trust me by now.I bend her over the black leather seat and quickly secure her wrists and ankles in place with the wispy leather straps. A thicker strap goes firmly over her back, holding her tightly in place. I hear her breath. By the time I’ve cinched everything tight she can barely even wriggle. Her breathing has quickened. I can almost smell her anticipation. I run one hand down her back, then stand and walk to the rack on my brick wall where I keep all my toys. The dungeon is a private one, and my collection is pretty extensive.