Tilly McReese – Dire Straits

It was already late, the kind of quiet night I treasure most, when the doorbell shattered my solitude. On the porch stood a woman in a yoga outfit, breathless and alone, no car, no phone, no explanation beyond a broken-down story and the long walk through the woods toward the only light she could find. I should have sent her away. I never invite chaos inside.

But cruelty doesn’t suit me, so I let her in. Just for the night.

For her safety, of course, I couldn’t have her wandering the house. I have a perfectly prepared space where she could wait things out comfortably. Soft walls. No sharp corners. A pristine white restraint designed to keep her calm and protected.

That’s when I realized my mistake. She never stops talking. The questions, the nervous chatter, the constant noise echoing off padded walls. That’s when inspiration strikes. I remember the ball gag. It matches her look beautifully.

Still not quiet enough? No problem. I have something better. A little microfoam to finally bring peace back to my sanctuary.

Yes. That will do nicely.