| Wooden dowel. She nibbles her lip as Grail loops the loose rope around her wrists, tying her tight and soundly to the bar. Grail picks at the rim of her babydoll, pulling it up her arms and tucking it behind her head, leaving it keep her head leaning forward like a harness. Chalice's small breasts hang free from her chest, quivering with her breath and the promise of softness. Grail cups a hand over each, kneading them with their heels. They are indeed soft, and Grail's hands are quite hard. Chalice slides her top lip underneath the bottom. Hanging from ... |